Infection 2
by Ornamental Nonsense
Summary: Claire takes her place on the anti-Umbrella team, but her path soon crosses with Wesker's once again. This time there is more at stake, especially after her exposure to a dangerous, new strain of virus. Sequel to Resistance.
1. Chapter 1: Uneasy Allies

Okay faithful readers, here is the beginning of part 2. I really appreciate the feedback that I've gotten so far, and I'm working to keep you hooked. Read, review, but most of all, enjoy!

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Chapter 15: Uneasy Allies

Claire Redfield lowered her SG 550 at the target and carefully peered down the scope. Wesker's words rang in her ears: _Claire, you can't right the wrong of the world; you're too weak._ She pulled the trigger and watched as she hit the target in the middle with a short burst of fire. She was getting better. It had been two weeks since her escape from Wesker, and Leon had taught her the basics on assault rifles, with which she had no prior experience. She had been fairly good with her hand-to-hand combat thanks to Chris, but she really was the rookie of the group, and so she worked extra to meet their standards. They had all been trained before the Raccoon outbreak, and Claire had fumbled through on her own.

The training had helped more than anything with her recovery. It made her feel in control again, and she wouldn't lie; spending enormous amounts of time with Leon had been nice. He was a solid, charming guy, like he had been in Raccoon, but Claire drew the line at friends. She always felt like part of him was holding back, as if there was someone else on his mind. Maybe there was.

Claire reflected on her past relationships. The last boyfriend had been a month before Raccoon. _Sam_, she recalled and inwardly laughed. He'd been nice, but Chris had threatened to kick the poor guy's ass after he was caught offering Claire cigarettes. That brother of hers always had her back, and Sam hadn't been a serious love interest anyway. There had never been anyone serious, and she couldn't remember one that she found interesting and engaging enough to battle against Chris to keep.

Her mood turned darker as she considered what would have happened to Sam if they'd stayed together and he'd decided to visit Raccoon with her. _He'd probably have been eaten_…The more she thought about it, the more she realized how difficult having a relationship would be with that threat in the background, and that was probably why so many people involved in anti-Umbrella kept themselves single. Certainly she doubted whether any of her previous boyfriends would have been strong enough to survive or protect her. There had been one man who she might have loved: Steve. Umbrella had taken that from her too.

_One day the nightmare will be over_. Chris and her would go back to normal jobs and enjoy the holidays, and he and Jill would have cute kids and make her an aunt. The days of always looking over her shoulders for monsters would be over. She lowered her rifle and trudged over to the edge of the range. Several black vehicles had arrived. Wesker had always chosen black vehicles, she recalled, just like his clothing. He frequently came to her mind at the oddest times, whether it was seeing a pack of noodles to someone with sunglasses, but it didn't bother her. She was used to lingering ghosts from her experiences.

Chris was greeting the men who exited from the vehicles below her vantage point. _They must be the US agents_, she contemplated. _I'd better go see what's up_.

***************

"Do we have a deal or not?" Chris asked the three men sitting across from him and Leon at the table. "It's a big facility, and we could use the help." He regarded these newcomers with curiosity and caution. Leon had explained how gritty some of the governmental dealings were, and his distrust of the agents' good intentions had rubbed off on Chris. This was a temporary merger for mutual benefit and nothing more.

"I think it's a good idea," one of the men stated. He had brown hair that was graying at the temples and a thick moustache. "But what we're after is not just blowing up the facility. We have reason to believe that a new project is underway. We want to gain the data on whatever they're working on so that we know what we're going to be up against in the future. They keep making new creatures, and keeping up with the damn things makes killing them harder." _Sure_, Leon sarcastically thought. He was sure they would go after a sample. The government had more interest in bio-weapons than just cataloguing them. None of them knew how close William Birkin had come to selling his services to the Pentagon, but they'd seen enough to understand.

"We're out to kill," Leon stressed. "If you want samples or data, you get them on your own. We go in together only if destruction of the lab is the end goal. Two separate groups will make success more likely." The man shot Leon a calculating look and a slight smile.

"Leon Kennedy, isn't it? I've heard of you…" The man turned his predatory stance into a shrug. "Two separate groups? I don't think so. Forgive us, but we don't know you. I won't risk being betrayed or left to blow up. We go in two groups, but I want at least one of your members on my squad for security. You can have one of mine." Chris and Leon looked at each other.

"Agreed," Chris stated. "We plan a mutually timed entrance and exit, but if we're in a tight spot, we'll proceed to blow up the plant whether or not you have your data. Got it? We'll give you fair warning so you get out safely, but I won't risk the mission. We'll have to be in constant communication."

"The US government appreciates the offer. You can call me Nash," the man grinned and extended a hand. "We couldn't do this ourselves." Chris and Leon shook his hand and they began planning the mission. Of course, despite the pleasantries, anti-Umbrella had an agenda as separate as the government's. If possible, the sample/data would be blown up with the rest of the plant, as had been previously decided. The self-destruct system would ensure that. It was simply a matter of moving faster than Nash's team so that the agents were forced to evacuate without a virus. The question remaining to be settled was who would accompany the other team in the exchange. Chris had given the matter a lot of thought.

"I have the perfect member of the team to join you," Chris said. He led their new allies to a sitting room where the rest of his team was waiting for the details of the mission. "Allow me to introduce Claire Redfield. She's young, but tough as nails." Claire stood and spun to greet the newcomers. Chris knew that she would have sense enough to escape on her own if these men didn't heed his warnings, and she had been beating him with declarations of being ready for action since her return. "She's been inside multiple Umbrella facilities." Chris waited for her and Nash to shake hands.

Instead they stood and stared at each other with grim expressions.

"A pleasure, Claire," Nash greeted, but his eyes were cold while his face smiled. "Or should I say Jennifer Fielding?" Claire folded her arms while everyone else exchanged glances.

"Jennifer Fielding?" Chris began. "Claire, these aren't the guys that…?"

"Yes they are," Claire said, deadpan voice. For a moment, no one seemed to know what to say or do. The entire mission hung by a thread.

"With all do respect," Nash said. "I won't work with someone I know that I can't trust. She works for Wesker." Nash thought he was exposing a horrible truth to Chris's team, for it was obvious to him that they had no idea she was a double agent.

I do not!" Claire protested. "He kidnapped me and I was about to go home when you attacked me at the airport."

"You didn't seem like a common kidnap victim in the interrogation room," Nash countered roughly. Even looking at her made the bile rise in his throat. "I lost a lot of good men when that bastard of a man showed up to save you, his former hostage—how interesting." The evidence did seem damning when put like that, but anti-Umbrella knew better. Nash only saw a dangerous bitch in Claire since that incident. The men he had lost…he had been close to them, like brothers.

"Ok, look," Jill said, coming to the rescue. "Claire is definitely working for our side. Let's sit down and discuss this before we make a big mistake. There's more at stake here than a nasty goodbye." The remainder of the day was spent in tense discussions and explanations that neither side fully wanted to accept. In the end, it was decided that the mission would continue, but Nash had his eyes on Claire Redfield.


	2. Chapter 2: Claire's Challenge

Chapter 16: Claire's Challenge

They crouched in the dense jungle surrounding the Umbrella plant in their black camouflage and waited for the signal. Nash had been keeping an eye on Claire, who was nearby. He treated her like a teammate, but he did not trust her for one second. His private conversation with Chris and her had not eased his suspicions, and he had been betrayed too many times to let this slip by. If the bitch got shot in this mission, she'd be left to rot. Resentment coiled deep in his chest.

"Ready?" Claire asked. She had an earpiece and a tiny microphone that was clipped to her shirt for communication. "Ok." She turned to Nash. "We're all clear for entry." They moved out silently, careful to avoid the numerous video cameras that they had located days before. Claire warily kept Nash in front of her. Chris had wanted to pull her from working with the man, but she had adamantly refused. This was her chance. This was her first mission, and she wouldn't be sheltered. Leon had surprisingly argued for her, saying that Nash would be unlikely to continue working with them if he couldn't keep a personal eye on her.

They waited for the guards to come out onto the stairwell for their normal cigarette break. Claire felt somewhat nervous staring at the Umbrella structure, but she was also anxious to get back at the company. Wouldn't Wesker be surprised to find his hidden lab blown up? That would teach him a well-earned lesson in humility. She started to wonder what the chances were of Wesker actually being at this site, but she didn't have much time to do so; the side door was opening. When the guards emerged, their throats were slit and the bodies tossed behind the stairwell. Claire was glad that she didn't have to partake in such a close range killing of normal people, although she had seen enough bloody violence to not be overly bothered by it.

Everyone moved inside.

"We're in," Claire told the other team.

"Keep close. Watch each other's backs. We need to find the main lab," Nash ordered. _Whatever_, Claire thought. Her goal was to remember how to get herself out once the building was destined for a fiery end. They breached the security room and waited for their computer hacker to find a digital map before proceeding. The main lab was several two stories down, but not difficult to get to.

They dug deeper into the facility with their guns silenced. People they encountered were quickly dispatched and left in the hallway. This was a speed mission where detection was inevitable but not necessarily negative since the place was going to be blown up anyway. Claire kept herself toward the rear of the group and let the others do the killing for the moment as they crept forward among gray halls that largely looked the same. The dreary place stirred painful memories for Claire.

The facility's alarm suddenly blared to life above their heads. They had been detected, and the building came to life. A large group of scientists rounded the corner into their hallway, and gunfire raked across their bodies to leave a bloody pile. Somewhere, people were yelling.

"Shit! They know we're here!" Nash hoisted his machinegun. "Let's move before we have company. Fire at will." Claire had her own assault rifle out and killed men who came at their back. Her aim was efficient and deadly.

"We're here!" one of the others announced as he rigged a charge to a large metal door. Seconds later the hinges blew apart and sent sparks skittering across the hallway. Claire felt an involuntary shiver as they stepped inside. They were in a room with a cylindrical, liquid-filled chamber at its center. A tyrant's grotesque body was suspended inside of it.

"Oh my god," one of the team members gasped, but it was old news for Claire.

"Keep moving!" Nash commanded. They entered another lab where scientists shouted and ran to escape their gunfire. Their bodies fell to the floor, where the red of their blood contrasted sharply with the white tile. Glass instruments on the tables exploded and sent shards flying in numerous directions, all of which horrified Claire as she remembered the last assault that these men had conducted. It had turned into a biohazard, and no wonder when they carelessly opened fire in a viral laboratory.

"Don't shoot!" she frantically shouted. "You'll get us killed! There are viruses in here!" She was ignored. "STOP!" The gunfire ceased, but only because all of the scientists were dead or dying. Nash was hurriedly accessing a computer for data while another man lifted the lid of a large, metal container fixed atop a table. As the lid came free, a cool mist poured over the sides and onto the floor where it drifted lazily about their feet.

"Jack pot," he laughed. He began removing vials of viruses and securing them in a cylindrical, carrying case that he removed from his belt. Claire frowned in disapproval.

"You said we were taking data, not a sample," she protested. Chris had warned her about this, but she wasn't quite sure what to do about it now that it was happening. Nash spun and aimed his rifle at her with a sickeningly satisfied grin.

"Change of plans, _Jennifer_." Claire nodded her head in faked acceptance, but her eyes retained their sharpness. He approached Claire and lifted his gun to her temple. Her eyes widened in shocked anger. "Drop you weapon." Her assault rifle loudly clattered to the floor, and her hand itched to reach for the long knife strapped to her waist. Nash smiled wickedly and motioned his gun's barrel to her side. "And the knife." It joined the gun on the floor. "And the other one." Claire's last weapon hit the ground.

"This is what I get for helping you out?" Nash spat on her face.

"This is what you get for being a two-faced liar and getting my friends killed. Men, let's go. You," he jabbed Claire in the chest, "get to stay here. I'm saving anti-Umbrella the trouble of learning the hard way."

"I'm almost done," the man taking the samples announced as he slid the lid onto his carrying case. "I'll be right back. I'm checking the other fridge." Claire's earpiece buzzed. It was Rebecca.

"Get yourself out of there, Claire. This place is going to blow," she warned. Just then the intercom announced that the self-destruct sequence had been activated.

"Shit," Nash again cursed. Claire took the opportunity and slammed her body into his. He stumbled, but the man recovered quickly and was about to shoot her when armed men burst into the room. Within moments the room erupted in violent crossfire. One of Nash's men screamed and fell against the wall while clutching at his chest.

"Evacuate!" Nash ordered as he returned fire. "Let's get out of here!" Claire watched the man with the collected viruses abandon the fridge and run to join his teammates at the door while they held the enemy down. Claire's system blazed. They were not taking viruses out of here. They would not risk unleashing hell on the world. She assaulted the man and landed a series of swift blows to his body while bullets whizzed about them. The cylinder in his hands slid open in the attack, and vials fell free to shatter across the floor and leak deadly viruses into the environment.

"NO!" The man clutched wildly at the falling vials and managed to catch the last one. Claire recognized the purple liquid that it contained and panicked.

"You can't take that out of here!" she yelled as she reached for it. Her fingers wrapped around the vial and tore it from his grasp as she sent the man backwards with a sharp kick to his gut.

"Leave her, Clark!" Nash ordered. "Let's go!" They scrambled from the room under heavy fire, and Claire was forced to dive behind a heavy lab table as bullets flew over her head. She landed face-first, and so hard that the wind was knocked from her body and the vial cracked. Time seemed to slow as she rolled onto her back and painfully opened her hand. It was bleeding from where glass shards had punctured her skin, and the purple liquid from the vial mixed with the blood spreading over her palm. _No, no, no, NO!_ Her face paled and her pulse quickened in terror.

"Chris?" she called into her mouthpiece. "Nash tried to kill me. I'm getting out on my own." Maybe she wasn't infected. Maybe the virus hadn't seeped into her system. She felt fine, right? She peeked around the table and found herself alone in the lab. The guards had left, thinking that everyone in this room was dead. Claire wasn't, not yet.

"Claire, can you hear me?" Chris spoke into her ear. "Get out now! You're running out of time!" Claire pulled the glass from her hand and retrieved her gun as the intercom again buzzed to life.

"Self-destruct sequence aborted." Damn, was that fortunate for her or not? She went to stand, but the door behind her slammed open. She barely had time to duck down behind another table with her gun clutched to her chest before someone entered. Hurried feet moved across the floor, and soon a figure in a white biohazard suit walked across the room. He had not seen her yet.

"What a damn mess!" the man complained, seeing the broken test tubes and equipment. "It will be a miracle if anything survived." He threw the lid on the metal chest open and searched through its contents.

"And the samples?" a cutting voice demanded. Claire tensed. She knew that voice with its cold, biting edge and commanding resonance. Sure enough, Wesker's black-booted feet walked by to stand beside the scientist. Claire wanted to melt into the floor and disappear. She was surprised that her heart wasn't beating loudly enough for them to hear.

"The computer's intact, so we have the data, but I'm afraid the samples are gone." The scientist's voice was growing shakier by the minute as Wesker's grew colder.

"What about the test subjects?"

"The remaining ones are the cruder specimens. We used the weaker strands on them. I'm afraid we were about to test the final, refined version today."

"Find the survivors and see if they took the final virus. Now." No threats were needed, for the scientist knew what would happen to him if he failed. He sprinted from the room, and Wesker loudly broke something, although Claire knew not what. She winced and dared not move, even though she was anxious. She had to clean her hand as soon as possible. A slight burning sensation was beginning to spread over the tender, torn flesh.

She choked back her dread and listened to Wesker's feet move back toward the entranceway. He paused. Claire held her breath. He couldn't possibly know she was here. It felt like he stood there for eternity before he continued on his way and left the room.

"Claire, are you there? Where are you?" Chris's voice buzzed.

"Inside the lab," she stated fearfully. "The self-destruct system was stopped. Don't worry; I can still get out…" She swallowed hard. "Chris, Wesker's here, and he's looking for you guys. I'm getting a uniform and going to try to walk out of here, ok?"

"Sis…"

"Over and out for now, big bro." Her hand continued to feel oddly ticklish and inflamed. "Whatever happens, remember that I love you." She turned the earpiece off, hid the tiny microphone in her bra, and confiscated a white uniform from a nearby cabinet. Dressed like an Umbrella scientist, she claimed a fallen woman's ID and exited the room. She was forced to leave her gun behind for appearance's sake. It would be of little use now anyway. Some people couldn't be killed with bullets.


	3. Chapter 3: Into the Unknown

You are all awesome for sending so many reviews—on this new story and the last one!

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Chapter 17: Into the Unknown

"The surveillance footage, sir," a timid man announced as he loaded the computer. Wesker dismissed the pathetic, cowering man and watched the screen in complete solitude. He was irritated, and an irritated Wesker spelled painful punishment for people foolish enough to remain near him. The footage began playing, and its reflection glowed on his sunglasses in the darkness. His fingers tapped the tabletop impatiently.

Chris Redfield and his motley band had dared defy him again, but he only briefly watched that footage. It added fuel to the fire, but his men were already pursuing anti-Umbrella. No, the real issue was Alexia's virus. He switched to the laboratory cameras.

He watched armed men enter the lab and open fire. _Idiots_. He easily picked out Nash, and right then and there, the man's death sentence was settled. Wesker would squeeze the life out of him with his bare hands if the virus wasn't retrieved. His anger mounted as they stole the refined virus—the one that he would have used this week or next. It was fortunate that the scientist had left or Wesker might have shot him in rage; although from his cool stance it was outwardly hard to tell just how angry the tyrant was.

His eyes darted to a smaller person on the footage. A woman had just become visible on the screen and Wesker's face would have registered surprise had he not trained it to remain straight.

"Claire," he mused. She was unmistakable with her pink jacket showing beneath the collar of her protective black vest, and her red hair was still in a ponytail. His interest peaked as he listened to the argument between her and Nash. Of course she would object to taking the viruses, but he doubted that her objection meant much. His eyes never left her figure as Nash raised his weapon. He could almost feel Claire's inner conflict and usual defiance. How interesting that Chris had paired his sister with her former kidnapper.

Suddenly Claire was fighting with the man carrying his samples. _She is quite the hellcat_. He noticed the vials fall and break but for the one that Claire wrestled from the other man. Everyone fled and Claire hid behind a table. Moments later, Wesker stepped onto the screen. Claire had been only a matter of feet from him with his prized possession. What were the chances?

"Sir, we've captured a small group of men who were fleeing into the jungle, but the leader got away." No matter. Nash's fate was sealed.

"Was a woman with them?"

"No, sir." Wesker adjusted his sunglasses and stood. There was still a chance.

****************

Claire delicately washed her hands in the women's room, tried to remove every scrap of glass, and then walked the halls with as much confidence as she could muster. She had once played a game with herself whenever she was at an event that she considered above her class. She would strut her attitude and talk the talk and see how many people assumed that she was one of them and not just some orphan; it had worked fairly well. She thought her current ruse was working and that it might succeed when a guard accosted her.

"No personnel are allowed to leave the premises, ma'am." Claire huffed disdainfully and flipped her long hair over her shoulder. She had let it down to obscure her face.

"I am merely going to my lab to see if anything survived the attack. Let me through, or you can answer to Wesker for obstructing his research." The man was clearly nervous as he motioned her to pass. Claire inwardly sighed; the cleanup checkpoint had been breached. She considered herself close to victory when she glanced over her shoulder and saw a familiar, black-clad man talking to the same guard. Her pace quickened and she slipped into a hallway lined with numerous windows overlooking a cleanup crew at work in their biohazard suits. She heard conversation approaching, so she paused and pretended to be busy watching the activity below as a group of people passed behind her. She let her hair fall like a veil around her face, but is also limited her vision. She never saw the man silently approaching.

A hand lightly touched her left wrist and trailed up her arm to her shoulder and then her neck. Fingertips gently ran through her hair, and Claire held her breath. Such a gentle touch…she had almost forgotten over the last two weeks.

"I do not appreciate the touching, sir," she said harshly in vain hope that it was a man who had simply mistaken her for someone else. A mouth dropped near her ears.

"A shame," Wesker's voice ground out, equally harsh. "Do you still have it?"

"No." Wesker spun her around and lifted her against the window by the throat. She coughed and gasped. He held on so long that Claire was sure she was dead, but then he lowered her and loosened his grip enough for her to breath properly. His eyes were riveted on her hands, which gripped his wrists from struggling to pull the hand away from her throat. The slices in her left hand had bled onto his wrists and shirtsleeves, leaving a dark stain. He removed his hands from her throat and watched her grip her wounded limb protectively.

"Where is it?"

"It broke in the lab. The samples are gone." Wesker's hand shot out and yanked her left hand forward to expose the palm. He examined the slices and the strange, purple discoloration of one of the wounds. His fingers expertly removed a thin piece of glass that Claire had missed.

"Broken, but perhaps not lost," Wesker commented in thought. They stood mutely contemplating the situation while several men in biohazard suits approached the lone couple.

"Dr. Wesker, we need anyone on the premises at the time of the accident to be sent for biohazard testing and possible termination. Both of you need to follow us." Wesker removed his sunglasses and stared the man down. The red eyes glinted dangerously. "Um…we'll be waiting when you're ready, sir. No need to hurry." The men scampered off, and Claire's face was the perfect picture of abject horror. If she was infected, they'd use her for tests and experiments, and…she shuddered to think of it.

"Miss Redfield, you have two options," Wesker stated. "You can either go with them and live in an 8-by-8 room with needles constantly jabbed into you, or you can come with me."

"What?" Claire asked, shocked. She scanned his face for falsehood, but there was none. In fact, he looked stoically calculating. "Why would you do that?"

"I do not need my superiors to know that I had my own viral side project." He mentally frowned. If Claire was infected, he could not risk the company at large getting a hold of Alexia's virus. It was a bargaining chip as well as his private power boost. "This way, Miss Redfield. We can't risk staying here." Claire hated that she hurried after him, but she had few options. Under his shadow again, she almost felt like she had never escaped and been free from it. "Does your body feel any different?"

"No. My hand feels a little odd, but that's all." Wesker glanced at her mortified face as they entered and elevator. They were alone. Wesker leaned closer to her, and Claire felt oddly drawn toward his strong presence in her vulnerable state.

"You shouldn't mutate," he stated. "The virus has only killed and deformed several of the test subjects. This refined version should be much better." Claire did not particularly feel better, but her fears somewhat eased.

"Thank you." Wesker stared at her emotionlessly as she stuffed her hands into her lab overcoat. Her red hair cascaded beautifully over her slender shoulders. "For that, and for not leaving me here." As they left the building, Wesker paused to clear something with a guard, and Claire took her privacy to click the earpiece under her hair and fish out her microphone. "Chris. I'm alive and out of the facility, but I can't come to you. Wesker...I think I'll be okay for now. I don't know what's going to happen." There was no response, and Claire didn't know if the message had gone through or not. "Take care of yourself."

She tucked the microphone back into her bra and turned to find Wesker standing several inches from her. She hated how quietly he could move. Couldn't he be loud like all the other tyrants? He held out a hand expectantly.

"What?" Claire asked.

"Don't play dumb, Miss Redfield. It doesn't suite you." Claire glared. "If you'd prefer, I can get it myself." Claire hurriedly stuck her hand into her bra and removed the microphone. It and the earpiece landed in Wesker's hand, where he crushed them with one squeeze. The battered remains tumbled to the floor and with them Claire's hope of remaining in contact with Chris. It was just her and Wesker again.

They left the facility in a car, and neither of them was in the mood to talk. Wesker seemed agitated, for Claire noticed how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. It was several hours before she dared move. She had to or she was going to cry. She shakily turned the radio on and found a station playing gentle music in a language she did not understand. At least it was soothing.

"Where are we going?" Wesker didn't respond. Claire couldn't take it. "I am really freaked out right now and could use a distraction," she admitted. Her voice was sharper than she had intended, but she felt to use a soft voice would make her release the tears that she was holding back. She kept tracing the cuts on her hand in worried fixation as silence continued. Wesker had been busy reconstructing his plans around the recent turn of events and did not respond until he was satisfied with it.

"You would be dead already if the virus were going to kill you," Wesker stated. "Dear heart, get some sleep. We have a long trip ahead of us, and parts of it will be trying for you. You can rest assured that Chris will be completely left out of this." Claire did not understand why he was giving her this comfort, but she accepted it for what it was and took his advice.

***************

Chris delivered a vicious punch to the man's face and broke his nose. Nash's teammate reeled back and clutched his nose with a moan. He raised a hand to ward off the next blow, but Chris was faster and landed another punch to his gut. The man gasped and hunched forward with blood dripping down his face.

"What happened?" Chris demanded. "Your team tried to kill Claire. Was this a plan to use and dispose of us from the beginning?" The accusation was hardened by the failure of Nash to appear at the chosen meeting place.

"He's had enough, Chris," Jill stated, although she had little sympathy for the man on the ground before them.

"We were ordered to retrieve a sample of the viruses at all costs," the man before them explained. "Nash said we'd do the job and go our separate ways. There was no plan to double cross you, I swear!"

"So what happened?" Rebecca asked.

"I don't know. I don't know." Chris stepped away from the man and shook his head as he holstered his pistol.

"Get out of here," he ordered. The man stared at him dumbly. "I said GET OUT OF HERE!" The man scurried off into the jungle. "Let him escape Umbrella without our help." Leon emerged from the jungle with his rifle in his hands.

"The others were captured," he said. "I almost got to them before Umbrella troops rounded them up. I didn't see Nash with them."

"We've got to find him," Chris demanded. "He's the only one who can tell us what happened to Claire." Everyone agreed.

"Guys, we've got to go," Rebecca reminded. "They're looking for us too." They readied their weapons and began navigating through the dense foliage. It was uncomfortable going, but Rebecca was using a positioning system on her hand held computer to guide them. Their moods were as damp as their surroundings.

"So Wesker was there?" Jill asked Chris. He nodded.

"Yeah, that's what Claire said. I can't get through to her anymore, but she sounded unharmed. It's just that…I think Wesker had her again. She mentioned him and being okay for now."

"Wesker must be planning to using her for bait again, don't you think?" Rebecca asked. "To get back at us?" Chris darkly fingered his gun's trigger.

"Probably."

"I don't know," Jill reasoned. "Claire didn't warn you not to come after her. She always does." Chris shot her a questioning and worried expression. "Maybe this isn't about you this time, at least not right now. She sounded so…different this time, like something was going on that we don't know about." Chris hung his head, but his mood quickly turned to determination when he thought of Nash. He might have some answers.

"She survived once, Chris," Leon reminded. "She can do it again."

"Yeah," Chris agreed. _She's a survivor_.

**************

Nash dashed through the forest and paused to listen to the sounds behind him. A group of men was chasing him. He could hear them carelessly pursuing him, but he wasn't going down without a fight. Hell on. He was Nash, and Umbrella would never have him on his knees again. He reloaded his gun and waited behind a tree. He had plastered his face with mud so that he blended perfectly with the earthy tones surrounding him. His gaze focused down the site and he pulled the trigger as the first man came into view.

He knew that Wesker would be out for him personally now, and he was ready for that. What he didn't know was that Wesker was hardly the only one set on laying hands on him. The hunt for Nash was on.


	4. Chapter 4: Settling In

Chapter 18: Settling in for the Long Haul

_The metal door slid open and Claire found herself staring at a stereotypical Umbrella lab. There was a table in the middle with metal hand and ankle cuffs attached at either end. Her face paled and she tried to run, but she only bumped into Wesker's chest. He held her tightly and steered her into the room._

_"NO!" Claire yelled. "Let me go. Let me go!" She frantically pounded her fists against Wesker's chest. Her limbs were shaking in fear as she realized that she had been a fool to think that he'd treat her any better than a lab rat. But then it dawned on her that Wesker was not retaliating against her lame attempts at hurting him. He merely grabbed her arms and held them captive behind her back. He was a black and blond blur through her watering eyes. _

_"Dear heart, this is for your own good. I suggest you cooperate," he intoned. Claire breathed heavily and closed her eyes. She tried to calm her system. "Can I let you go now?" Claire nodded drearily and Wesker set her on the table, but he never shackled her. He let her sit there on her own as he collected and prepared a few syringes. When he returned to her, her tears had dried and she sat looking numb and expressionless. He couldn't remember having ever seen her look so defeated…_

The respite from her attitude had not lasted long. Five days later, Claire was more prepared to deal with her situation, and she took heart in the fact that she had not mutated or died yet. The first day had been unbearable, with frequent crying and anxiety attacks, but Wesker had surprised her. He was not using physical force nearly as much as before, and he was most gentle in handling her body. Maybe she was being more docile, she thought, because escape wasn't looking like a wise decision even if the opportunity arose. That's how she explained it to herself so her spunky side would not make her do something rash.

Claire hated that she had turned into a test subject. She had said as much, and Wesker asked her what else she had expected. True. He had at least given her an option to either cooperate or get strapped to a stretcher. _What a choice indeed_, she thought as she sat in her pants and pink jacket in the lab. Wesker had taken blood from her the fifth day running. He was apparently conducting multiple tests, and he was so immersed that they rarely spoke. Most often Claire was left to her own devices in a makeshift bedroom, a.k.a a spare cot in a vacant lounge area.

"How are you feeling today, Miss Redfield?" Wesker asked as he entered the lab with a sandwich. Claire rolled her eyes and took the food.

"I couldn't possibly be better," she replied sarcastically, but there was an upside. "My hand has healed." Wesker held her hand and inspected it, running a finger over her scars. She hurriedly withdrew it. "Did you find out what's going on with me yet?"

"You're infected. I keep finding small amounts of virus in your blood, but today all traces of the original were gone."

"What does that mean?"

"It means your body has either completely destroyed the virus or completely assimilated it. I can't be sure on either option until I find a way to test for a new variation or until you begin to change." Claire did not like the sound of that, and Wesker could feel her panic meter shoot through the roof. "You should be physically improved, Miss Redfield, not damaged. This virus was meant for me, remember. You'll reap the rewards that I had planned for myself." He ended the comment with a sneer.

"And then what?" Claire questioned. "If I'm you're equal, you'll kill me, no doubt. And if you harvest the virus from my body, you'll have no more use for me." Wesker sat beside her on the table and, in a very rare action, removed his sunglasses and slid them into his pocket. The red did not bother Claire anymore; she had seen it too often.

"You have yet to not be useful, Claire. I seem to recall telling you that you had potential. We'll see what happens, but don't assume anything about your future. It could easily change at anytime. Your life is mine to dispose of as I will."

"So I'm stuck living in a windowless lab until you pinpoint what's happening to my body?" Claire sounded utterly dejected. "Wonderful. What a way to spend my last days on earth." She looked at her shoes. A million concerns brewed inside her. "Wesker, did you feel different when you infected yourself? Was it painful to die and come back?" Wesker regarded her, and Claire realized that, without the glasses, he seemed to have more expression.

"The dying hurt, but coming back was an odd feeling of waking up from a deep sleep," he recalled. "When I infected myself, my body felt numb at times and sometime it burned, but mostly I felt the same. Birkin didn't live long enough to explain why my eyes changed, but he had warned that I might find small alterations in my physical form. You might have to die before you find any changes, as I did." His controlled face regarded her with interest. "You're scared that you'll be like me, aren't you?"

"I'm terrified," Claire tried to half laugh.

"I relished the opportunity. Many people want power, and you are one of few to get it, yet you don't want it. People would kill to gain the secrets of my virus." Claire could interpret nothing from his steady, contemplative words, but she knew that he thought she was foolish for not wanting his power.

"I'd rather be a normal human," she scoffed. Wesker smiled coldly as he stood and replaced his sunglasses.

"And return to your brother and friends and live a normal life," he mocked. "I was expecting that." He closed his computer. "But you could be here with me for a very long time, Miss Redfield. Research takes years." Claire's face twisted in disgust. "Yes, I know you find the thought of living like me detestable." Wesker paused and seemed to be considering something. "Be glad I am not anxious to be rid of you."

"Hmmm?" Claire did not understand what he meant by that. He shot her a cryptic look and then the two were off. They left the facility and emerged from what looked like little more than a small bunker in the side of a hill. A road wound down along a slope to a small river and into the distance. Beautiful cabins and houses sporadically dotted the landscape, which was swaying with the dying colors of late fall. Claire was dumbfounded as Wesker drove a short distance to a side road that led to a house situated among the trees. From below, the valley felt isolated, as Claire could see no other buildings from this particular vantage point. There was only the wilderness.

"My employers provide housing for higher ranking researchers who work on private projects rather than research teams. The other bases are designed for that," Wesker explained as he opened the door to the house and led Claire inside. She found the place surprisingly homely looking with its simple design, full curtains, and carpets blanketing the wooden floors. There was even a fake fireplace. It was exactly the kind of house that Claire would not picture Wesker living in, although the simple practicality and orderliness suited him.

"So the lab here is for only a few scientists?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Are there other people around?"

"No. This is a difficult spot in the winter." _It's like a seasonal resort then_, Claire thought as she sat on the couch. She wasn't sure what to do. "You may stay here rather than the lab, but be warned dear heart: if you try to leave, I'll know, and the consequences will include being housed in one of the laboratory rooms designed for holding specimens."

"I understand," she said. "What I don't understand is why you're being nice."

"If I must repeat myself again, Miss Redfield, you could be here for a very long time, and I don't need you underfoot at the lab or otherwise interfering with my business." And with that Wesker left in full enjoyment of the fact that his comment about her being a hassle annoyed her greatly; however, Claire soon recovered from her anger and explored the house. The downstairs housed a kitchen, study, living room, laundry room, and small, indoor porch in the back. Upstairs she found two bedrooms, a bathroom with an enormous bathtub, and a small library. It felt strange to wander an empty house that felt like it should contain a happy family but knowing that it belonged to Wesker.

She checked the kitchen and was surprised to find cooking utensils and fresh groceries. She also found a phone that, unsurprisingly, needed a special access code to use. She thought about how many possible combinations there could be…Screw it, she realized. There wasn't a computer or a TV either, so that left her with the books upstairs for entertainment.

Still, it was better than the lab, and she again wondered why Wesker had brought her here. _He probably doesn't want you around_, but she had been under the impression that he liked the interruptions at times. And that comment about not wanting to get rid of her yet and offering her a job…She sighed. Maybe it was part of his manipulation game.

_How the hell do these things always happen to me?_ The empty house was just another reminder of the situation she was in and how Wesker separated himself from humanity. If he didn't even come visit her, she decided that she'd probably eventually resort to talking to herself. Let Wesker be a mechanical human. She hated being lonely. Of all the punishments inflicted on her as a child, being locked in the closet and ignored had been the roughest. The taste of paprika had lasted for only a few agonizing minutes compared to sitting in the dark.

It was getting late, and she decided to go to bed. She selected the first bedroom and snuggled under the blankets. Images of Umbrella experiments plagued her mind. She heard their moans and screams and saw them morphing. Then she saw Wesker with his red eyes, emotionlessly shooting people and going after Chris. She imagined herself with red eyes and always having to hide behind sunglasses—of being one of them, and she couldn't stop the tears. Claire cried herself to sleep and prayed that when she was killed, she wouldn't come back.

*************

Wesker arrived early morning to check on the house situation. He half expected Claire to have fashioned a weapon of some kind and foolishly try to kill him. Instead, he found her curled in his bed, face wet and body occasionally kicking. He set a bag on the floor and watched her. A hand gently swept hair away from her face. _Claire Redfield, you may be stuck with me for a very long time_. The thought did not annoy him in the least, as it once would have.

The work he did—that anyone did for Umbrella or a similar entity—exploited relationships for control of their employees. He had used similar tactics himself, and therefore shunned even friendship; although it was hardly only a work-related decision— such an action came naturally to his calculating personality, which found personal attachments cumbersome and impossibly sentimental. Still, he knew that he wasn't immune to normal, human emotions and experiences; he simply subordinated them to more important matters. He never deluded himself as a rule. He understood psychology too well for that.

But he could remember having a few friends, years ago. William Birkin had been the last, and by the time Umbrella was through with him, he probably would have sold Wesker out for his own benefit. That's what happened to people here...Claire, lying there asleep and troubled, had but a small taste. Somehow, it didn't keep her from fighting the tide. Somehow, she still woke up from her nightmares with determination. Wesker left her to her dreams.


	5. Chapter 5: An Inability to Hate

I promise more action is on the way, but I feel its necessary to delve more deeply into what's happening between Claire and Wesker. As I'm sure you've noticed, lots of development is happening between them, and not all of it is comfortable for either of them. I hope you find these chapters as interesting as those focusing on attacking labs.

Also, I'm really trying to update a lot this week, because final papers for college are approaching and that means posting will slow down.

______________

Chapter 19: An Inability to Hate

Claire awoke in the morning to the sound of running water and removed herself from bed. She found a bag at her feet with some clothing, paper and pens, and a large, familiar collection of Shakespeare. She suddenly felt embarrassed to think that Wesker might have read it, even though she could not remember everything that she had written. She flipped through the book until she reached the back cover and saw her doodle. _Oh shit._

She changed into a new pair of jeans and a black t-shirt and exited the room. The water had stopped, and she realized that the bathroom door was standing wide open. She had a perfect view inside from where she stood and was surprised by what she saw. Wesker stood combing his hair. It was so normal that Claire was stunned. Well, and he _was_ only wrapped in a tower. She couldn't help but note that his defined body was attractive, but she immediately scolded herself for thinking so. _This is Wesker, Claire_, the voice in her head warned. _He's not even human_. She tried to recover gracefully by nonchalantly going down the stairs, but Wesker had seen her.

"Staring again, Miss Redfield," he mockingly drawled.

"Don't flatter yourself," she sharply bit back. Wesker turned and smirked at her.

"As you can see, I don't." Claire blinked. Oh, he wasn't wearing his sunglasses.

"I wouldn't have put it past you." And she scurried downstairs, where he soon joined her fully clothed in black, but only slacks and a long-sleeved shirt compared to his usual number of layers. Claire was eating cereal. "So you read my notes," she stated. Wesker nodded as he watched her eat.

"You really do hold a melancholy view of my life. I noticed that you wrote that lovely note about me being a loner beside Hamlet's suicidal monologue. Yes, I've read Shakespeare, and I'm hardly a bleeding heart like Hamlet was."

"You're right. What was I thinking? You're much more of an Iago." Wesker couldn't resist taking a step forward to intimidate her. Her eyes flashed nervously, but she held her ground.

"On the contrary, dear heart, he was fueled by hate. I am working for something far grander than a bout of revenge, and it won't affect such a small circle as his plots did." Again, Claire could only guess at what larger scheme Wesker was part of. He claimed he would change the world, and she was sure it wouldn't be for the better. "Enjoy your week, Miss Redfield. I may not return for a few days." Claire forced her courage forward and followed him toward the door. She needed some peace of mind, and unfortunately Wesker was the only person capable of giving it to her.

"Wait," she said as he pulled on a long, black overcoat. "Will I come back to life like you when I die?"

"It is very likely."

"In that case, I want to know what it's like. I mean, I have some questions that I'd like to ask you about what you know. So, whenever you aren't busy…" Wesker nodded curtly and left. It was odd for him to think about there being another like him, as well as worrisome if Claire were to surpass his own abilities. It was even odder for Claire to think about becoming like her captor. So she sat and waited for three days. She read, cooked, drew, exercised, and gave herself thorough bodies check everyday to make sure that nothing had changed. She even risked going for a short walk about the woods, and on the third night, Wesker came back.

***************

"What would you like to know, Miss Redfield?" Claire was sitting opposite Wesker in the living room, a coffee table separating them. She was incredibly uncomfortable but played her confidence well, as she had on numerous previous occasions. She wondered how easily Wesker saw through her exterior. He seemed to have unnatural perceptions at times.

"Are you exactly the same besides the physical improvements like strength and speed?" Wesker cocked a faint, amused smile at her.

"You mean did the virus mess with my brain and emotions?" Claire nodded seriously. She did not appreciate him finding dark humor in this. "I am exactly the same as I was in that department."

"Okay, what about the physical then?"

"Strength, speed, heightened smell and hearing, fast recovery…"

"Heightened smell?" Claire asked. Wesker coolly met her gaze.

"You'd be amazed how far the scent of blood travels." The intensity of his stare made Claire squirm.

"Something to look forward too," she dryly commented. "And the eyes," she added. Wesker showed no response. The questions went on and on, and Claire slowly started to fear being infected less. Wesker stressed that her experience would be entirely different from his because of the differences in viruses, but it would likely be no worse. Claire did not like her situation, but she was happy to understand more, and Wesker bore her questions patiently.

"Last one," Claire announced. "Do you ever regret it?" Wesker regarded her serious expression blankly, and she waited for a response for some time. Wesker was so removed from this line of thought that he had only ever immersed himself in his newfound abilities. Regret had never occurred to him.

"No, dear heart," Wesker firmly stated. "Unlike you, nothing has changed for me because of that decision." Claire's eyes softened to blue pools of sympathy and reflection. Those were eyes you never saw working for Umbrella, Wesker decided, and he rather appreciated her openness at the same time that he thought it a sign of weakness. There was so little honesty from anyone else remotely involved in his life. If there had been, manipulation would have incredibly easy and then they'd have been disposed of—like Stars.

"So are you happy?" Wesker found Claire's next question strange, contemptible, and amusing in its sentimental roots. No one had ever asked him whether or not he was happy. He didn't bother to consider such questions often on his own either. They were irrelevant.

"I'm content in what I am and do."

"But not happy then." They locked eyes, even through the sunglasses. "I was." Wesker did not answer the comment, and Claire seemed lost in thought. He had been working in conspiracies and unforgiving companies for so long that he had forgotten that people were merrily living normal lives just beyond his. They had become objects long ago, even before Umbrella, he realized. Life had never seemed the kind place it once had to Claire. It still did when she considered her brother and friends. "I still don't understand you at all," Claire broke into his thoughts.

"Stop wasting your time trying to, dear heart," Wesker stated with an edge. "Focus on staying alive. It's still your spirit that keeps you going. I'd have thought you'd learned that by now." He returned to lab, and Claire meandered into the forest with Jill's words ringing in her ears: _Seeing in gray can be deadly_. Claire reflected on the recent conversation with concern but quickly forced it and its precariousness aside. Instead, she kept her mind busy with escape plans. That had its own problems.

The more she thought of escaping, the more she realized that 1) she was in no position to do so, and 2) Wesker was the only one who could possibly tell her what was happening to her body. She couldn't believe everything that had happened to her in the two months or more; she wasn't sure about time anymore. Stealing the original sample in Boston seemed years ago. She considered the cabin behind her and where she would be if Wesker had given her to the scientists. Maybe there was a shred of humanity to her captor after all. _Chris, forgive me, but I can't hate him_.

*************

"What have you learned?" Wesker asked into his phone.

"Chris and company escaped and are keeping a low profile. I couldn't locate them." Wesker considered that her inability to find them might have more to do with Mr. Kennedy than real barriers but let it slide. "Nash is in Mexico, and keeps moving. The man is slippery, but he _did_ once to work for you, as I understand it." _Yes, Ada, slippery, just like you, but don't make the mistake of overestimating your abilities like he did. _Wesker idly tapped his fingers in thought.

"Very well. Do tell Nash goodbye for me, Miss Wong. He's not to get away. Oh, and Ada, make sure that you dispose of any nuisances that might also be after him. You have this curious habit of letting certain individuals live longer than they should." He imagined that the US government would want Nash back, and he wasn't counting Chris out of the hunt, not after Claire's disappearance. "I won't be lenient this time around," he stressed.

"No need to remind me, Wesker," Ada darkly retorted before hanging up.


	6. Chapter 6: Pushing Boundaries

Chapter 20: Pushing Boundaries

Claire went for occasional trips to the lab for testing. Wesker took occasional trips to the house—seldom at first, but soon he came back more often and chose to work on his laptop in the living room. He usually arrived early evening but was gone before Claire awoke. A week transpired in this fashion, and they had not argued, which was a miracle. In fact, they had been discussing science among other things. Claire had been learning about viruses from books in the library, and Wesker was pleased to find her taking notes on them one day. If she had any questions about the content, she asked him and he answered.

On Tuesday of the following week (Claire's third straight week with Wesker), Claire unexpectedly found that Wesker had arrived early. She easily picked up the sound of his car and boots by now and met him in the living room, where he settled to work. Being around him so long, Claire was amazed that his self-discipline hadn't faltered once before her eyes. He never flopped, dropped, or lounged on the couch. He sat down smoothly and quietly opened his laptop on the coffee table. He was always in control, and it bugged the hell out of Claire as she watched him. He glanced over his sunglasses at her.

"What can I help you with, dear heart?" Claire shifted her feet and sat across from him. She would not sit beside him. It seemed too close and personal, and she wasn't willing to allow that.

"Will I be able to have kids one day?" Wesker was caught off guard by the question, but it only showed in his swift eye movement toward her.

"I never saw you as a motherly figure," he mocked with a smirk. Claire crossed her arms. "Miss Redfield, I have no idea. That is an area of the virus I have never bothered exploring. Until you die, you will likely be able to bare children, if you so desire."

"You've never thought about having kids or a family?"

"I've never wanted the liability." Claire figured it was something like that. "If you'll excuse me…" he said with a motion to his computer. It was an order to leave him alone, as polite as it sounded, and Claire glared but stood to leave for the kitchen.

"You don't need to call me Miss Redfield," she said in parting. "It's too formal."

"First name basis, it is, Claire," he drawled. "We have spent a rather lengthy time together and shared a bed after all." Claire tensed at his teasing voice. "I'm sure your brother would be thrilled." Claire paused and realized that he was right, and it stung. His little jibes always seemed to find their target. Just when she was able to feel like she was having a conversation with a normal person and forget her circumstances, he had to bring her crashing back down.

"According to you, I might never see my brother again anyway, _Albert_," she smugly replied. His first name felt incredibly unnatural coming off of her tongue. She wasn't sure she liked it, and she wasn't going to wait to find out if he liked it. She quickly shut the kitchen door as he turned to level a probing expression at her. No one had called him that in years, not since entering Umbrella, and for a reason: first name basis showed a familiarity that he did not appreciate in his line of work. Claire could feel disapproval flowing in her direction. She decided that she had better stick to Wesker.

Her heart ached for Chris as she considered what he must have been going through while she waited for release from being a cozy hostage. Even when she and Wesker spoke kindly and interacted on a mutually pleased level, she could never forget she was a prisoner. Her freedom was tethered to a virus, and she was still uncertain as to whether or not Wesker would eventually murder her, but her instincts told her that she'd be spared. She searched for a reason and could find none except Wesker's easy manner recently. In some ways, he seemed to be getting more tolerant of her affronts, but she knew better than to test that.

She went into the bathroom for a shower and flipped the laundry hamper open as she started to undress. There was a black outfit crumpled inside. She snorted in annoyance at the reminder, but then she paused. Wesker's briefs sat atop the stack of clothing. They were black. His shirts were black. His jackets were black. His pants and boots were black. _And_ his underwear were black? It was too much. Maybe she just needed to laugh. Maybe that was it. The stress and lackluster existence she was trapped in made her want to laugh at such a small, ridiculous thing. Then again, maybe it was just plain funny. Claire Redfield stood in Wesker's bathroom laughing—a full-throated laugh in the bathroom of the ex-Stars captain, traitor, and ambitious, inhuman bastard.

"Dear heart, I hope you haven't cracked." Wesker stood in the doorway studying her, as if he truly thought that perhaps the virus was affecting her mind. Claire quickly choked back her laughter, but a smile remained about her lips. Wesker stared. He had never heard her laugh. The last person he had heard laugh was Alexia, and that was more of an evil cackle, not full and rolling like what Claire had been doing. He failed to see what was funny.

"Um…" Claire started, still struggling to gain control of herself. "You really do wear all black, don't you? That's a bit obsessive, if you ask me." Wesker's mind clicked as he saw the laundry hamper.

"I have an image to maintain," he stated coldly, but the corners of his lips twitched upward into a ghost of a smile. "Mind intact then?" Claire nodded. "Glad to hear it." And he walked away with a short chuckle. Claire climbed into the shower feeling somewhat lighter. It was the first time that Wesker and her had shared a laugh, and it had felt surprisingly nice. She hoped that it somehow happened again.

**************

Mexico:

Rebecca crouched on the flat rooftop with binoculars to her eyes. The sun was high and hot on her back and sweat trickled down her face. Still, she kept vigilant as she spoke into her mouthpiece.

"Ok everyone, no sign of Nash yet. Leon, are you sure he's here?"

"Yes," he answered. "The apartment building with the blue shutters one block away. Tell us when he comes out." Rebecca focused. The streets were bustling with people this time of day. Below her, Chris sat inside a coffee shop and waited for a signal to move. Leon was waiting in an alley closer to the target, and Jill was busy playing with children in the square behind the apartment, in case Nash took the back door. They had been tracking him for weeks, but now everything seemed in order.

"There he is!" Rebecca exploded. "He just stepped outside and is heading toward the market. Look for jeans, a tank top, and a brown hat. Over." Chris moved faster than anyone, and he had to keep reminding himself to slow down. He closed in on Nash's back as the former agent stopped to barter for some avocados. Carefully, Chris withdrew a knife. He was confident that he'd control the man, but Nash had not stayed alive so long by being careless. He was wearing sunglasses with thin mirrors on the inside edges, and he recognized Chris coming at his back.

Chris was almost in position when Nash spun and twisted the knife from his hand. Chris gasped in surprise and Nash punched him across the face and made a run for it.

"Don't lose sight of him!" Chris yelled as he made a mad dash through the streets. People cursed and yelled at him as he plowed through them. He was gaining on Nash, but then the man disappeared down an alley. The Umbrella man hid behind a crate and watched Chris turn in circles on the street, vainly searching the crowds for him. Nash allowed himself a grin, but it lasted all of five seconds. A hand wrapped around his throat and carefully held a knife to his jugular.

"Not so fast, Nash," Jill ordered. She touched her microphone. "I got him. Let's meet back at HQ." They regrouped in a rundown apartment overlooking a poorer section of the city and tied Nash to a chair. Chris sat backwards on another chair and questioned him.

"What happened to Claire?" he demanded.

"You've got to be kidding me," Nash spat. Chris slapped him across the face.

"No, I'm not, and you're going to tell me exactly what happened or I'm going to rearrange your face."

"Or drop you off at an Umbrella base for Wesker," Jill added. The second threat was more effective, and Nash narrowed his eyes in shrewd thought.

"If you must know, she tried to stop me taking the samples that I was under direct order to collect. It was her own damn fault for getting left behind. She even attacked one of my man—crazy bitch." Chris cracked his knuckles. "She broke all of the virus vials." Everyone in the room turned in surprise except Leon. He was staring out the window. For a second he had thought that he'd seen…no, it wasn't possible. What would she be doing here?

"That's right. She let the viruses loose and we hightailed it out of there. I don't know what happened to her after that, but, if Wesker got his hands on her, you can bet she paid for it. The man's the most heartless boss and killer I've ever known."

"You worked for Umbrella," Leon stated. "We know that Wesker sometimes uses old bases for hideouts. Do you know where he might have taken her?" Nash couldn't believe his ears.

"Taken her?" he laughed. "Wesker doesn't take people somewhere unless he's going to do something to them or use them. What the hell's so special about Claire Redfield?" He shook his head. "Either Wesker has gone soft or she's a very good employee, and my money's on the second one. That freak doesn't have soft spots." None of this was doing Chris any good, but he wasn't about to give up.

"I want the location and description of every Umbrella base you know about," he demanded. "I don't care if we have to search a thousand different bases; we're going to find her." Nash spat on the floor.

"Suit yourself, but what do I get?"

"Your life." Jill held a gun to his temple for emphasis.

"Get me some paper," Nash gruffly asked. He wrote his list, and it contained some fifteen locations, but he never finished it. Outside, on the rooftop of a nearby building, a woman crouched with a rifle. The scope zoomed onto the back of Nash's head and she took a steadying breath. She could see Leon inside, as handsome as she had ever seen him. Wesker didn't need to know that any of them had been here. She had found Nash alone in Mexico, trying to survive. Her finger pulled the trigger.

"Can a man get a drink around here?" Nash questioned as he wrote. Chris grunted in refusal. Then, when he bent to look at the list Nash was making, a spray of blood flew across his cheek. For a wild moment, no one knew what had happened. Nash was face first on the floor with blood pouring down the back of his skull.

"Get down!" Jill warned. Everyone hit the floor except Leon. He looked out the window.

"Ada," he quietly spoke to himself. He grabbed binoculars and searched the rooftops. She was too good to still be there, his mind whispered. But he found her. She was standing in a white dress with the wind ruffling her black hair. She stared straight at him and nodded her head in greeting. She had decided to do one thing for them, but just one. Her lips formed words that Leon could not hear from this distance, but he read her movements well enough. _She's alive_.

"I got the ice tea!" Rebecca announced as she stepped into the room. "Oh." Her eyes met Nash's bloody end. Chris was sitting and scanning the Umbrella locations. They were going to cross them off the list one-by-one and hope for the best.

"Thanks, Becky," Jill said and took a well-deserved glass.

"No problem."


	7. Chapter 7: Time

Chapter 21: Time

Three weeks were gone, and Claire felt like an eternity separated her from her past. Since the bathroom incident, she and Wesker had returned to being professionally detached but friendly. In fact, being friendly was getting easier, much to her concern. She knew that seeing Wesker as human was dangerous, and she knew that it would only make future situations more difficult; however, none of that changed the fact that it was too late for her to retreat into a corner, avoid him, and stew in anger. Time was a factor, she was aware, and part of her conceded how pointless keeping herself in perpetual misery would be. _And_, she reminded herself, _that is the only thing being aggressive would accomplish_. Wesker could probably care less if she hated him, so she would be the one to suffer for her negative emotions. Sometimes she wondered whether or not she was building flimsy excuses for seeking out his company. _Well, what the hell else am I suppose to do? Shut up, self, and make the best of things. _

The fire in her wasn't dead. No, it certainly wasn't. She confidently strode passed Wesker on his couch without even acknowledging him today. She tried to never immediately interact with him, because she felt that it made her look like she had been waiting to speak with him. It was a point with her to keep dignity by appearing stronger than that, but really, Wesker thought she was being foolish. He knew that she needed company like many other humans. It was a common predisposition, and he would hardly have expected her to act differently. In fact, he found it a testament to her strength that she could speak with him on calm, unafraid terms and retain her spunk. It showed pragmatism could win out over her stubborn, moralistic streak. Chris would have been dumb enough to bash his head against the wall rather than allow himself peace of mind in her circumstances.

Wesker wondered if Claire saw the dangerous line that she was walking. Her survival technique could easily lead her to forget what kind of man he was. It would be her biggest mistake. Claire would lose if she let herself become resigned.

The first snow had arrived today. Claire sat on the indoor porch watching it float downward and remembering making snowmen with Chris. _Sis, you can't make the head as big as the body!_ _Watch. Do it like this_. She again thought about time, her constant enemy. Claire figured it was early December. She usually had several presents hidden for people by now. She did shopping early while Chris was the exact opposite.

With a sigh, she stood and walked to the glass walls. Her breathing fogged it, and she drew a stick figure portrait of her, Chris, and their parents building a snowman. Wesker had never built a snowman, she was sure. It seemed to her that he had probably missed a lot in life. His childhood couldn't have been nice with the way he turned out, but there was no way to tell. Wesker tactfully avoided the few questions she dared ask him about his personal history. She could see him through the door-less porch entrance. The man probably didn't even celebrate Christmas.

"Do you think I'll make it home for the holidays?" she asked rhetorically as she stepped inside. Wesker didn't even glance at her; he didn't need to. She sighed and pulled her sweater about her closely. "I bet Umbrella didn't decorate for Christmas. Everyone would be too busy working with corpses to care. Maybe the company distributed extra test subjects or something." She put as much distaste into the last comment as possible.

"They hosted parties," Wesker corrected.

"Really? That's surprising."

"Just because I did not choose to, does not mean that all Umbrella employees were unmarried and antisocial. William had a family he brought to the parties." Claire pictured Sherry in a Christmas dress and smiled distantly and sadly.

"So you went to the parties and celebrated?" Wesker sneered.

"They were occasions for making connections." Claire rolled her eyes.

"It's always about work with you. I went to a big Christmas party once."

"Because you were only ever invited to one?" Wesker mocked.

"Because I prefer smaller, more intimate celebrations," Claire tersely corrected. She had no idea why she was telling him this, but she felt like talking, and he was responding. _Great, someone probably died to put him in such a decent mood._

"It was a big bash and Chris weaseled tickets from a friend. I wore a silver cocktail dress. It was horrible—I mean the event, not the dress. It was supposed to be a party and half the people were talking about work and the other half was drunk. We were escorted out after Chris pushed someone into a table for grabbing my ass. But that's what big brothers are for…" She begged any powers that be that she'd see him again. "The best Christmas ever was when Chris came home from Raccoon for the holidays. We stayed up all night making truffles." Part of her hoped that talking about Chris would annoy Wesker, but he was passive. She shrugged her shoulders apologetically. "I'm rambling."

"If I objected, I'd be at the lab."

"But why don't you mind? You used to stay locked in another room—your dark, dingy hole," she recalled. "Gosh, that was…three months ago." Had it been that long?

"I'm accustomed to having you around," Wesker stated as if he were coolly rattling off a report. He'd clearly thought about this already. "And it may surprise you, dear heart, but your perspective and wit are…a change of scenery. You do not belong to this world." The world of Umbrella? Claire mulled the thought over. Compared to the heartlessness she had seen from these organizations and its employees, he was correct.

"You're right and wrong," Claire decided. "I wasn't part of this world, but I was forced to be. I'll never escape it—not now, not being infected. I had hoped someday this mess would be cleaned up and sent to Hades where it belongs. I'd get to go back to my old life…talk about lost hope." Wesker seemed to be working, but he watched her from behind his shades. She was pensively tracing the scars on her hand. What he didn't know was that she was considering how utterly expunged from something nearing personal interaction Wesker would be if she were absent.

She left the room and began making herself a cup of hot chocolate. She paused and examined Wesker's back. Two mugs of water went into the microwave. When she was done, she strode into the living room and gently set one of the mugs beside Wesker's computer. She took her mug out onto the porch. The gesture had simply felt right. She almost felt like he needed someone to do that for him, just once. Everyone should have a cup of hot cocoa on a cold day with the first snow. Tomorrow they could go back to being detached, but for one moment, let there be a truce. She was happy to see that, after Wesker left for a long night at the lab, his mug was empty.

***************

"Nash is somewhere in a Mexican morgue," Ada reported. Her voice was slightly scrambled from poor signal.

"Any complications?" Wesker asked.

"None. It was smooth and simple. Is there anything else you'd like done?" Ada's voice was so sleek and confident that Wesker had no real way of knowing whether she was telling the truth or not. When unsure, always assume dishonesty. It was how he thought, and Ada knew it. She was sitting on a balcony overlooking nighttime, pedestrian-strewn Mexico City.

"Fair lady, you wouldn't be remaining in Mexico to meet someone, would you?" He knew she'd lie to him, but he asked to remind her that he kept tabs on her and her visitors, company agents or otherwise. She was not surprised that he had traced her already, and she nonchalantly slid her hair behind her ears. Wesker was good, but he wasn't god. She was confident that she slipped plenty of subterfuge by him.

"How I spend my personal time is none of your business, Wesker," she curtly responded. "Unless you have more work for me, I'm going to enjoy some sunshine and tequila."

"Actually, I am always most interested to learn how you spend your time," Wesker coldly ground out. "And I do have work for you. Find the report that the company council received on a recent incident in Brazil. I want it A.S.A.P." He couldn't risk acquiring it on his own or he'd alert his superiors' suspicions, and he didn't want Ada hanging around. That woman became too clever for her own good when she had free time. She was fortunate that she was so good at what she did or Wesker would have cut her life short for her betrayals.

"I hear you, Wesker," Ada yawned. "Now let a woman get her beauty sleep. I'm sure you have distractions of your own to attend to also…" She shut the phone and reclined further into her seat. Why did Wesker have Claire Redfield? Of course, what the man did was of little concern to her, but it was curious. Her boss was the most ruthlessly efficient man she had ever met, but, unlike other powerful men who had used her services, he lacked their vices. He did not chase women, hanker after money, or flaunt his power. His subtlety and practicality were far more dangerous than other men with ambition such as his own. There was always a sense of hunger about his moves, a hunger for more control and dominance, but not visibility. She did not like to think that she was helping him, but she was.

"Ada?" Leon cautiously called. Her heart jerked. So he had found her, as she had hoped, but it wasn't safe for either of them. Wesker had sources everywhere.

"I can't tell you anything, Leon," she said as she heard him approach her back. "I don't know where he is." His hand rested on her shoulder and she closed her eyes.

"And if you figure it out?"

"Leon, I won't make promises, and I won't jeopardized myself," Ada stated, more coldly now. "It's not personal. You've exhausted your favors." Leon sat beside her and rested his arms on his knees. "And Wesker is being very secretive concerning his latest hostage."

"That's settled then," Leon neutrally agreed. Ada was Ada. When the time called for it, she usually came through for him, but she was still a professional. "Mind if I stay for a while?" Ada smiled in her sly, beautiful manner and leaned toward him.

"Not at all, handsome, not at all."


	8. Chapter 8: Watching

A short chapter, but I really love this one. It's my favorite thing I've written for the story. What a shame that the next chapter…well, see what happens…

___________

Chapter 22: Watching

Wesker left Claire for three more straight days, as lab work had intensified. Claire's condition was beginning to make itself known through his tests, and the results were quite remarkable but developing at a pace too slow for his liking. He had traced a pattern of how the virus had entered her system, and so he was mapping what was likely to happen in himself. Plus, he needed samples from her to recreate a dosage for himself. The difficulty was that Claire's exposure had been miniscule, and while her body had absorbed the virus, it might take some time for it to overtake her system, which meant more waiting for him.

Perhaps he could speed the process up.

He had other concerns as well. A mostly abandoned Umbrella base had been attacked yesterday, and Chris, that annoying pest, had been implicated. How had anti-Umbrella known where the base was? Perhaps Nash had not been killed fast enough, or perhaps it was Redfield luck. More likely, Mr. Kennedy was involved. How convenient that Ada was taking her time with her current assignment.

He rocked back on his chair and darkly eyed a string of data. Claire Redfield had more potential than she knew. The way the virus was acting on her system…Wesker could not count on her being weaker than him in the future. He had to have his own strain of the virus for security and personal satisfaction now. Then again, Claire might be much more useful because of her infection. Only time and her death would tell.

He tapped the computer screen and viewed surveillance of the house. Claire was in the kitchen making a bedtime snack, as was her custom. Tonight it appeared to be...Wesker wasn't sure. She was holding marshmallows over the stovetop then jamming them between gram crackers and chocolate. He would wait another hour, when she would be in bed, to return. He was not in the mood for conversation given news of anti-Umbrella.

His boots crunched across the forest floor in the dark. The snow was too thick for driving, and no one was plowing the retreat area, so he had taken to walking to and from the lab. It was a simple matter for someone who did not feel the cold and had the strength of a tyrant. He took a deep breath. He liked winter more than the other seasons. The air was crisp and uncluttered with pollen and vegetation. He really did not appreciate having so many smells crowd his senses.

He carried a metal briefcase with him and set it on the kitchen counter in the house. It was one am, and Claire would be asleep. He checked. He always did, as if she might not be there one night. He knew better than to think her defeated, and so he suspected that she'd attempt tricking him sometime, but he was still surprised to find an empty bed. It didn't look like it had been slept in for some time. He searched for her. She'd be a fool to have left the house and try her luck in the forest. He had insured against it by not giving her sufficient winter clothing for a trek.

He found her on the indoor porch, looking like a gigantic mound of blankets. She was on the couch, facing the windows. The moon reflected over the snow in sweeping, bluish-white patterns. Trees stood like tall sentries in the background, and he could see she had been outside by footprints leading into the forest. He thought that she was sound asleep as he approached and laid a hand on her shoulder. The bundle jerked to the side, and the top blanket fell backward as Claire tilted her face upward toward him. She hated how intimidating he was in the dark with his sunglasses and black ensemble.

"Don't creep up on me!" she hissed crossly. "The last thing to do that ended up dead." Wesker gave her an "Oh really?" expression as he sat beside her. "What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously.

"Sitting on my porch. And what are you doing out of bed so late, dear heart?"

"Watching."

"Watching what?" He failed to see what was interesting outside.

"The snow. The moonlight. The stars. The forest. I happen to think it's beautiful. I can't understand how you lived in windowless labs for so long."

"You're a sentimental woman, but," he continued before Claire could protest him finding fault with that, "It has its uses for people like you." Claire was satisfied with the explanation and settled into her bundle again. She felt awkward being such a blanket hog.

"Do you want a blanket?" Wesker looked amused.

"Hardly." They sat in silence, watching together. Claire felt unusually comfortable with him being so docile, but she imagined that it was a process started long ago. She yawned.

"I wish I could go home," Claire finally said, looking at Wesker with deep blue eyes.

"It wouldn't be the same. You know you'll never be free of this. But you could live a mostly normal life while infected. The problem is that you won't let yourself not be involved, Claire. I've been observing you for a long time. You've lost too much to Umbrella to stop coming back. It's not Chris who keeps you stuck in the middle. It's you and your sentiments." Claire silently agreed. "Many people were drawn in so deep and so fast that they never had a chance of escape. The weaker ones were swept under." His words were weighted and uncharacteristically distant. Claire shivered from the cold and unconsciously moved closer to Wesker and what little heat radiated from him.

"It would still be nice to go home. Screw Umbrella and whoever else is out there. They won't last forever." Claire felt a tear slide down her cheek, and Wesker lifted a finger and wiped it away. Her watery eyes locked with his, and he leaned closer.

"Nothing ever does, dear heart." She could feel his breath on her skin.

"Why dear heart?"

"You don't find it fitting?" Claire barely huffed, and Wesker smirked. He could tell his close presence was bothering her. She stared up into his sunglasses and could see nothing of his red eyes. She hated the sunglasses and the effect they created. He was already a difficult man to read, and they did not help.

"Take them off," Claire softly requested. Wesker removed the sunglasses, and his eyes stood out amidst the darkness. "I guess they're useful for a man who only has enemies and allies…tell me, honestly, do men like you ever want to be someone else?" She was sitting against his shoulder now, and his face hung directly over hers. He cupped her chin and brought his lips so close that only a thin margin of air separated them.

"No." And his lips pressed against hers in a soft and searing kiss. It was so brief; it was like it had never been. Claire hadn't even had time to respond. It was comforting and searching rather than passionate, and it left Claire more confused about how she should be feeling than ever. "And if we do, we never admit it." His intense face lingered close to hers, and Claire felt like he might kiss her again, but he only leaned back into his seat while Claire sunk deeper into her blankets. A million emotions ran rampant in her system. She wasn't sure if she should want to be kissed again or angry at his manipulation, if it was indeed that.

She relaxed and fell asleep, after which her body slid to lean against Wesker's shoulder. He had thought that she would take his attention well with the way she had been acting lately. He allowed himself to rest for some hours with Claire beside him. It was the calm before the storm, for she'd soon enough hate him again tomorrow. Her hate would not affect him at all, but he preferred to share these last hours of peace and give her some respite from what was to come. He imagined that the days of her bringing him cocoa were over. She was going to get a rude awakening from her blindness.

He tenderly brushed hair away from her face and wrapped an arm around her. It was good to have influence over her, and…Wesker peered into her face. He had been manipulating her, of course, but her actions were hardly dependent on his planned attempts to gain her trust. Claire was not stupid and very observant. For the first time in a long time, he was letting his guard down—well, as far down as a man like Wesker ever let it fall.


	9. Chapter 9: Reality

Chapter 23: Reality

Claire woke up on the porch alone and thinking about Wesker. He had kissed her. _What? Why? This can't be good_. It felt totally unreal the morning after, but she could still imagine how it had felt and the redness of his eyes. But the redness had been tempered by something else…they had almost looked soft and genuine in the moonlight. She wasn't sure if she wanted to get up and encounter Wesker. Time ticked by. _Have some backbone_. She shrugged her blankets off, walked into the living room, and found Wesker prepping a syringe. Her body immediately went rigid. He motioned for her to sit. With her high nerves, she still managed to notice that he had his sunglasses on again, and he looked as stern as ever.

"Your body has completely accepted the virus into its cells. Even as we speak, more cells are being altered, but they are only carrying the virus. It won't be activated without outside force, such as death, or, perhaps an increased dosage. Your body only had minimal contact with the contagion, but luckily I managed to reproduce a dosage based on your blood samples." He sounded like he was reading from a textbook. Claire stood and backed away.

"You're going to use me as a guinea pig to see what a higher dosage does?" Wesker was advancing on her with the syringe. "What the hell! I could mutate like Alexia did! I remember what she looked like with a high dosage." Wesker paused.

"Claire," he coldly intoned. "Don't be hysterical."

"Stay the hell away from me!" Claire yelled as she ran for the door. She had no idea where she was going, but anywhere was better than near the needle. Wesker set the syringe aside and tackled her. "NO! Bastard! Put me down!" His vice-like arms had ensnared her and forced her face down onto the couch. She began to sob as he reached for the needle. She struggled, but Wesker firmly pressed her into the cushions with his other hand on her shoulder and his legs atop hers.

"Dear heart," he soothed, mouth close to her ear. "I am not giving you a dosage that high. The stronger sample will be for me, because my body needs a higher dosage to be effective. This," he brought the needle close to her teary face. "This is a minor dosage that will only spike your levels. Any changes will be minimal. It is only to infect cells faster and ensure that the virus takes over your system rather than the other way around."

"I'll KILL you for this!" Claire yelled desperately as she continued to struggle. Wesker painfully pressed his elbow into her back until her relaxed. She was emotionally exhausted as he rolled her over and pushed up her right sleeve. "The virus was losing, wasn't it?" she questioned angrily. Wesker ignored her and she shot up to head butt him. His head barely moved and he slammed her back to the cushions. "I was going to be fine…" She felt the needle slide into her skin and release its poison. She felt like a prisoner being executed. When Wesker stood and straightened his jacket, Claire remained on the couch.

"Was that so bad, dear heart? You made it worse on yourself." He put the empty syringe in his case. Claire was now standing and glaring death at him through her puffy eyes.

"Why? If you have your purer sample, why bother increasing my infection?" She did not know that this was necessary for Wesker to get a higher dosage. The tyrant didn't even look at her as he repacked his briefcase.

"Insurance in case I require an even stronger dosage," he explained. "Research, to see how someone not previously infected with a virus responds. And," he finally turned to her with a chilling smirk, "because there is no better way to make Chris suffer." Claire's heart shattered into a million pieces and scattered across the floor. Her tears ran in vast torrents down her cheeks, and her breathing grew erratic. Was this how Stars had felt when they realized their captain had set them up to die?

"So it was all just a show?" she demanded in a cracking voice. "It was always about your goals, your game? How could you do that? Why bother making me comfortable or talking to me or acting like you care? You once told me all it ever came down to was business, but…I thought…I'm such an idiot."

"Claire." Wesker was reaching for her face, but she jerked away.

"Don't touch me!" She slapped him across the face as hard as she could and ran upstairs and into her room. She knew it was a pointless effort at escape, but she didn't care. She set a chair under the doorknob for a similar reason and stood at the window feeling as empty as the landscape. She couldn't remember ever being so hurt in her life. The doorknob moved and tried to open.

"Claire," Wesker called threateningly.

"Go screw yourself," Claire retorted savagely. Wesker wasted no time in slamming the door open and breaking the chair in the process. Of course it was no match against him. Claire didn't even turn as she felt his presence at her back. She had stopped crying, but more tears threatened. "I want to be alone."

"You're being foolish, dear heart. I won't leave when you might irrationally run off into the forest and die of hypothermia." Claire barked a bitter laugh.

"Wouldn't that be to your advantage? It would further your research, I'm sure."

"It's not personal, Claire."

"No, it never is with you, is it?" Claire was crying again. "And that's the problem. I won't forgive you for manipulating me like that. I can't hate you, but I'll never forgive you." Wesker actually sighed, but it was so quiet that Claire did not hear it. He couldn't believe she had just said that she didn't hate him.

"It would be to my benefit to kill you and put your body in the lab now," Wesker softly stated, and it was partially true. "But I'm not, not this time. It hasn't only been about my goals, dear heart. Your experience would have been much worse if it had been, and you knew what kind of man I was from the beginning."

"You're a cruel monster."

"I'm not arguing."

"Was everything a lie? Was it all…" Wesker laid a hand on her shoulder.

"I said not all of it was strictly about goals." Claire's exhausted frame sunk against his chest and allowed him to support her. "I never suggested that you should trust me. You did that on your own."

"You didn't ask me to forget what you were and enjoy hanging out like two normal people either, but I did," Claire weakly raged. "You let it happen. I wanted to trust you, Wesker, even though you killed Steve. I wanted to see something more to you than the killer. I wanted to think I could be more to you than Chris's little sister." Wesker rolled her in his arms so that she was facing him.

"You are, dear heart, and don't you ever think you belong in his shadow. You'll rightfully be his better before long." Claire saw an unnatural glint of anticipation in Wesker's eyes and was wary of it. He was not done using her in his plans, she knew. Yet she let her last tears out onto his chest. It was wrong to let her captor hold her like this, but she didn't care in her current state. "Get some rest, Claire. You'll feel better in a few hours."

"Pain like this doesn't go away overnight," Claire muttered. "In case you didn't know, emotional pain lasts a lot longer than the physical."

"I've known and used that to my advantage before." Claire sighed and wrapped her arms around herself as she sat on her bed. "Don't do anything foolish, Claire," Wesker advised as he walked away. Claire felt the need to crawl beneath the blankets and never come out, even though she had just woken up. Maybe it was the virus, but she felt weak and tired.

"Wesker," she called. "My body feels strange. What happens if I mutate while I'm asleep?" He still left, and Claire, feeling completely abandoned, slipped her jeans and shoes off and climbed under the blankets. If she was going to spend her last moments as human doing one thing in this god-forsaken place, she was going to be comfortable and warm. Minutes later, Wesker returned, and he sat on the other side of the bed with his laptop on his lap. He wasn't about to trust her on her own in her condition. Claire, oddly enough, found it easier to sleep with him beside her.

"If I turn into a monster, you're the first thing I'm going to kill and eat," she muttered to herself. Wesker smirked as her eyes slid shut.

"Sleep, Claire. Nothing will happen." What an odd assurance. "Soon pathetic men like Nash will be unable to control you ever again." Claire did sleep, but only after the monotony of clicking keys lulled her into it…

_Claire woke up in the house to hear Chris calling for her. She leapt from the bed and ran for him. He was downstairs, standing right there, arms outstretched in excitement. She grinned happily, but soon the joy on her brother's face twisted into horror. _

"_Claire, what happened?" Claire was confused and turned to look in a mirror. She gasped. Her eyes were red, and her hands ended in claws. Her entire body itched, and, as she watched, her body stretched outward in odd angles and spikes. A third eye opened on her chest, and the urge to kill overtook her system. Soon Chris was at her feet, bleeding to death as she stabbed and bit him again and again. She started to cry. Her body burned. Why did her entire body burn? Maybe someone had set on her fire. _

She gasped as she sat up in the bed, suddenly panting for air. Her body shook with heat and irritation. Wesker's computer sat unattended on the bed. She tried to stand but fell to the floor in pain. Spasm after spasm hit her body.

"Wesker!" she screamed. She wasn't sure what was happening, but he was at her side and injecting something into her arm. "What's going on?"

"Quiet," he ordered. "Hang in there, Claire." Her vision blurred, and she reached for him instinctively. He was carrying her, but to where she did not know. She was acutely aware of his scent and the feel of his smooth skin. Then, as quickly as the agonizing pain had arrived, it departed. Her body began to slacken and the pain was turning into a dull ache. Maybe if she fell asleep again, it would go away…Time distorted into an unknown span as she waited and willed herself to sleep.

"Claire!" Her eyes jerked open. Someone had slapped her hard across the face. "Claire, focus." Wesker's voice was demanding as always, but it was also abnormally insistent and anxious. She tried to concentrate on the face above her, but she quickly began slipping away again. Another prick entered her arm, and the pain began receding. Things grew clearer…She saw a white tiled ceiling with blaring fluorescent lights that she hardly appreciated. She groaned and turned her head to the side. Something black was blocking her view, and a sudden terror gripped her.

"I didn't die, did I?" Wesker chuckled and she laid her head back flat to look up at him. He rested his hands on the table edge.

"You did not die," he assured. She realized that she was strapped to a table, but her head was still too fogged to care.

"What happened?"

"The dose that I gave you may have been a bit strong for your body. If you had died too soon, you'd probably have turned out like Mr. Burnside. The virus needs to incubate or it destroys rather than merges with a human's system." Claire nodded in surprise and looked at him questioningly. "You are no use to me dead…not yet, dear heart. Unless you force it, there is no reason you ever should be." Claire grimly smiled.

"You know I won't stay on the sidelines…or join you," she added as an afterthought. Wesker stroked her cheek.

"Never say never."

"Could you untie me? I'm not going to try and eat you." Wesker smirked and did as asked. Claire found her body amazingly sore as she straightened. "Whatever your reasons, thank you, Wesker. I know it might have been easier to toss me in a tank."

"It would have been," Wesker bluntly answered.

"So I'm fully incubated now?"

"You will be in a matter of days. The worst is passed for you in the transformation process. Besides dying, the rest is painless, and dying doesn't necessarily have to be painful. Mine was a rather extreme example." Claire stared at him leaning casually against the countertop and was reminded of how attractive he was. "What are you thinking, Claire?" He did not like the detached, blank stare that she had.

"That I can't picture you as a child—you know, running around, having fun and playing, laughing. The only Wesker that seems plausible is the one I'm looking at." She shook her head and unsteadily balanced on her feet. "Can we go home now that I'm not going to grow tentacles?" She immediately regretted how she had phrased her question. That house here was not home, and she did not share a home with Wesker.

"Claire, that tongue never fails to find sarcasm for every situation." They went back to the house, although it was a hard trek for Claire. Wesker half-carried her to the door and to her bed. She resigned herself to resting for the remainder of the day and wondering why Wesker wanted her to survive and become more powerful. He sat in the bedroom with her, just in case the tentacle did show up, as he told her.


	10. Chapter 10: Mutual Confessions

Chapter 24: Mutual Confessions

Wesker rarely left except to get her food for the next week, during which Claire felt extremely sick. He was surprisingly receptive to her requests, although she asked for as little as possible. He would bring her lunch—usually a sandwich—and he would occasionally grab her a new book to keep busy. She found herself sleeping more than usual, but he said that it was normal since her body was adjusting. He explained that he had felt the same way. He could sharply remember the uncertainty he had faced when in her shoes, but there had been no one to ease his concerns as he did for Claire. She knew it and appreciated it.

"How's your work going?" Claire asked one afternoon. Wesker mockingly regarded her over the top of his shades.

"Swimmingly."

"That's too bad." He smirked. "Wesker, where did you go after the tyrant killed you? I'm just curious." He did not pause in his typing.

"I stayed underground in an office for several months."

"And if you win, then what?" This time Wesker did pause.

"You'll see when it happens." Claire leaned into her stack of pillows—built from every possible pillow in the building—and took a nap. She and Wesker were on good speaking terms again. It was impossible to avoid when he was the only living thing around for company, and she was distressed to find that she wanted to trust him as much as she had before. She didn't, but she still saw something else to him besides a monster, and she felt that he was allowing her to see that for more than practical reasons. She could at least believe him when had said that he had not, in fact, done what he had only for business. The truth she sensed behind that statement kept her spirits alive. She smiled sadly, for she very much doubted that he had ever spent so much personal time with another person.

She awoke to the delicious smell of chocolate. Wesker was not present, but there was a mug of hot cocoa sitting on the nightstand. He entered as she was busy sipping the warming liquid. She frowned into her cup as he resumed working. It was time to make her admittance, especially after everything that had happened.

"I'm sorry," she said. Wesker's eyes shot to her. "You aren't a monster. I spoke in anger, and I'm sorry." It killed her to say it, but she felt it needed to be said for own good. "You're still a cruel, conniving man though—just more human than you get credit for."

"Be careful what you say and think," Wesker cautioned flatly. "It seems even being injected with a virus can't destroy those humane notions of yours. You Redfields are eternally foolish in that regard."

"If they are such nonsense, than you would not have kept me alive and treated me like this for so long. I should have listened more carefully to what you told me last week." Wesker was studying her carefully now. "It's more than business, I think, no matter what you claim, and, if you claim otherwise, than you're only deluding yourself. I think you like having me sit around while you're working. Without me, you'd be in some hole with infrequent phone calls for company. You've been telling me that all along, in your own way..." Suddenly, Claire seemed embarrassed and turned away. "Wesker, I'm just trying to admit that I was wrong in some ways and thank you for the cup of cocoa."

"Your welcome."

"You should still rot in hell," but the heat wasn't behind her words. It sounded like a lame, tagged on sentence. Claire snuggled into the blankets feeling better. Admitting that there was more to them than captor and captive lifted a load from her tangle of feelings, but it was still a tangle. She tossed the blankets off and moved to the door after grabbing a fresh change of clothing.

The bathroom tiles were cold beneath her feet, but the hot water of the shower quickly made her feel better. She ran a finger over the inside of her elbow, where a bruise had formed. Her body felt normal. She sighed and washed shampoo out of her hair. Wesker had been right; Chris would suffer more from knowing Claire was turning into a similar creature than if Wesker had outright killed her. That the world could hold such cruelty was unfair, to say the least. That it should arrange for her to feel for a man who caused that misery was even crueler. He deserved to die, and she knew it would be her duty to help do it if she was ever free to rejoin her friends. Justice had never felt emptier.

She exited the shower and stood before the sink to put her hair back into a ponytail. The entire bathroom was fogged, and she cleared the mirror with a hand while she secured a towel around her midriff with the other. She nearly jumped out of her skin to find Wesker's reflection. He was standing directly behind her shoulder, smirking. Claire sucked in her breath and shot him a harsh glare.

"Ever heard of knocking?" she demanded. Wesker only looked more amused as he bent his mouth to her ear.

"This is _my_ bathroom."

"Then I'll leave you to it." She tried to leave, but Wesker grabbed her shoulder and hauled her back. She was now cornered between the sink and him, but facing him.

"Not until I allow it." Claire crossed her arms over her chest and demanded he get on with it through her eyes, but inside she was worried. "I'm afraid kidnapping you has resulted in unforeseen consequences, as you so aptly pointed out." Claire could not believe she was hearing this. "I'm a bit attached." He said it like he might refer to being fond of a certain dessert, and Claire did not know how to take that. "But it changes nothing. I want to be clear on that. Chris is still on my hit list, as are his annoying accomplices. If you become a thorn in my side, I will rip you out as I would anyone else." Claire seemed more subdued than angry, which surprised him.

"Men like you don't change, do they?"

"No, and if we do, we never admit it." His face was drawing closer to hers, and Claire quickly averted her face with fire in her expression.

"And you couldn't wait to tell me this? You had to come in the bathroom?" She was truly angry now. "Maybe I'm attached too, but, now that we've settled that, stop trying to manipulate me any further." Wesker threatening bared her way from the bathroom with a hand on the wall. "Albert Wesker, I don't care what you are! Don't you dare jerk my emotions around like you did when we were watching the snow. If it's to get at Chris…"

"Don't even ruin my mood by bringing him into this," Wesker roughly ordered. The command momentarily silenced Claire. She could feel his anger radiating. "It would break his heart, and that would satisfy me, but I don't need to resort to common sexual tactics or threats to break people. In some ways it is far less expedient and productive in the long run." Wesker straightened and pivoted to leave the bathroom.

"Wesker, wait!" She jogged after him and they were stopped outside of the bedroom. "I'm not finished. You can't expect me to not think such things after the way you've used me. And you are so damn difficult to read. What the hell am I supposed to think? And those freaking sunglasses don't help!" Before she knew what she was doing, she had ripped the glasses from his face and thrown them to the floor, where she promptly stomped them into several pieces. Regret set in almost immediately. _Shit_.

Wesker had her by the throat and forced her against the wall. He was definitely pissed beyond belief. His fingers squeezed but not to the point where Claire couldn't breath. She stared him down, daring him to do it.

"Do you want to die, Miss Redfield, because that's where this is going," he angrily promised. Claire began to cry, and the tears ran over his fingers.

"Go ahead. I'll come back anyway, and be a freak like you…" She squeezed her eyes tightly and only felt Wesker loosen his grip and come closer.

"Is that what this pent up anger is still about, being infected?" he questioned darkly and softly, but Claire shook her head no. It was the game with her emotions. Wesker's features relaxed in understanding. "You are quite an interesting person, Claire. You really don't belong here, but one day, when certain obstacles have been removed…" He caressed her face and proceeded to kiss her. It was gentle as before, but not as fleeting. One hand held the side of her face while the other wrapped securely around her waist. Claire's hands gently held his sides, for she wasn't sure where else to put them. Her lips parted and encouraged his, but her insides were engaged in a desperate struggle.

Wesker moved to her neck and slowly planted kisses there. Claire had never been kissed like this. His movements were controlled, deliberate, and too methodical to be completely genuine, like everything he did, and his confidence was suffocating. Claire realized that the feel of his arms around her was the safest and most secure that she had felt for as long as she could remember. Was it the effect of this place? She wanted to be comforted. His lips were warmer than she would have expected. He loosened his grip and let her towel fall to the floor.

"Feeling conflicted, dear heart?" he whispered with his red eyes incredibly close to hers. He didn't need to ask the question; her torment was clearly stamped on her face, and her body remained somewhat stiff.

"Not everyone can shrug off loyalty without a second thought," she said, equally soft. Wesker smirked privately. There would not always be other loyalties to cling to, not in the end. His arms encircled her, but only loosely. One of his hands buried itself in her wet hair. The other made small tapping patterns on her lower back as he contemplated the future role of Claire. As he released her, Claire felt the hesitancy in his actions, but he never let short-term satisfaction ruin long-term goals. .

"You are shivering, dear heart. Get some clothing." Claire felt extremely awkward in her position and hastened to the room. Wesker smirked at her in the doorway while she quickly changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. "I trust that is much better." Claire hopped into the bed, and Wesker went back to work. Like their previous show of intimacy, it almost felt a dream, like it had never happened. Claire thought about running her hands through his blond hair. _What the hell?_ She took out the collection of Shakespeare and began jotting down some notes to clear her mind. Wesker was tapping his fingers again. He tapped and tapped and tapped.

"I love that sound," she commented. "It lets me know that someone, somewhere in the world is happy because you're not." Things really hadn't changed, but, as Wesker cast Claire a concealed smirk and warning, she knew that they had. "Wesker, things do change." He said nothing, but he was thinking. _Not in a world like this, dear heart; not in a world like this._

**************

"Try this one, Redfield," Ada whispered and pointed to a name on the list. Chris jumped and spun around. The slender woman regarded him with a mysterious smile and stepped backward. Chris immediately noticed that she held a handgun and was tapping it against her thigh. Her eyes surpassed him and searched for Leon. The entire team was stunned at her sudden appearance.

"What are you doing here?" Chris demanded as he rested a hand on his own gun. Ada waved dismissively and retrieved the list of labs that he had been studying.

"Relax, tiger," she soothed. "I came to offer some advice."

"And how can we trust you?" Jill demanded.

"I am a practical woman," Ada flawlessly returned. "So believe I have my reasons, and there was some persuasion." Her eyes briefly met Leon's before she focused on Chris. "Wesker has your sister at a resort base, but you'll need to figure out which one."

"You're sure about that?" Chris asked.

"No," Ada admitted, "But those are the types of sites Wesker has chosen to lay low at before. I suggest you get cracking on it, because I will have to tell his highness something. You have two days, and then Wesker will know that you've been at five bases and have the locations of more, possibly his. Now, if you'll excuse me…" Leon hated to see her go so quickly but remained fixed on the other side of the room.

"Wait!" Chris hurriedly burst. "My sister, is she okay? Why does Wesker have her?" Ada paused and smiled.

"Now that is an interesting question. All I know is that she's alive. Goodbye, and be prepared for a hellish Wesker." Ada's hand reached for the door. If they found Wesker, then what? He'd kill them if they weren't careful and lucky. She hated to think that her last time seeing Leon would not be an appropriate goodbye. She stepped through the doorway.

"Ada," Leon called. She glanced over her shoulder. "Thank you." She momentarily bowed her head toward him and then disappeared. Leon dwelled on her image, but Chris was ready to take on the world. Jill gave him a huge hug and kissed him. Hope renewed was not to be undervalued.

"Let's kick some tyrant ass!" Chris bellowed.


	11. Chapter 11: Unable to Leave You

Chapter 25: Unable to Leave

One day later, Claire noticed that it was snowing again, and she stubbornly forced her body to remain awake to watch it. There had been a time, when she was nine, when she and Chris had sat in her bedroom and played a game. They had pretended that they were trapped in a snowstorm, and so they had to take care of themselves without adults. They'd pitched a tent with her blankets and used pots and pans to make pretend campfire food. The memory always made her smile, only now it seemed a distant and untouchable.

As they'd grown older, she and Chris sat on the bed and shared stories about their day or things that they planned to do rather than playing games. She missed that. Now she had Wesker, and she didn't think it likely that he'd tell her about his day or what he dreamed about. _I probably don't want to know anyway. _But she did_. _She unconsciously pulled the blankets more closely about her as she thought about what had happened between them. Wesker had seen her naked _and_ had been touching her. She could live with that. The fact that part of her had wanted to completely surrender to him was what nagged her.

"Chris and I would always sit and share things when the weather was bad," she commented. "It gave me time to talk about ideas and life. We haven't done that in several years now. It became harder to find time once he entered police training and then anti-Umbrella." She wanted to talk now, about anything. That's how it was with Wesker and her. They were technically enemies, but then there were those times when they seemed to transcend those boundaries. They could be civil and enjoy each other, and they had admitted it, whatever that meant. She wasn't sure since their circumstances weren't likely to change with their allowances. Claire was amazed by the clarity that she reached on such ideas as the snow fell.

"If there is anything good about being infected," Claire decided to say. "It will be the resistance to cold. I used to wish for warm snow so that I could play in it without a runny nose. Maybe one day I'll be able to do that after all." She turned to find Wesker gracefully reclining in the chair and watching the snow. "You must know a lot about me by now," Claire commented. "I can't even remember everything that I've said since you captured me. I guess you have a pretty accurate psychological portrait."

"Claire, I had you figured out long before you started talking about your personal life," Wesker smugly offered. Claire rolled her eyes. He _would_ claim that, but she was willing to bet it was true.

"Yeah, well, you're not a total mystery either," she asserted, and Wesker cocked an eyebrow mockingly. "Just because I haven't studied psychology and you don't talk about yourself doesn't mean that I can't put things together on my own."

"And I suppose your depth of observation goes to the level of realizing that my favorite color is black," he smirked. He could see Claire's defense mounting. "Dear heart, I know you're not stupid. If you were, you'd have been disposed of already." He had yet to replace his sunglasses, and Claire took that as a small victory as he idly pushed the laptop away. "Are you up for a small trip, Claire?"

"To where? The laboratory?"

"Naturally. We have work to do." Claire eyed him suspiciously because of the "we". "It will not directly effect your body," Wesker assured. "But I require your assistance." Wesker had been taking samples from her and going to the lab late at night, when Claire was asleep. To her, he hadn't left her side, but the desired concentrated virus had easily been extracted and refined from her festering body over the last week. "Shall we go?" Claire knew that she didn't have a choice, and so she changed into lined pants, boots, and a sweater. It looked damned cold out there, and her body was still recovering.

"Take it, dear heart." Wesker held out his long, black jacket to her, for she had none of her own. And so they left—Wesker walking through the snowy air with only a black shirt while Claire fumbled along in a coat too large for her. She knew that she must look ridiculous as she nearly stumbled into a large ditch. She looked up. Wesker was holding out a hand to her. She paused and stared at his barely-there smile. His black clothing and red eyes really did clash beautifully with the white landscape. She took his hand and let him lead her around the pits.

"Please tell me there's heat in here!" Claire chattered as the door slid shut behind them. She noticed that Wesker entered a locking code into the electronic panel beside the door before leading them deeper into the facility. "What are we doing?" she curiously asked.

"I'm using the virus that I extracted from you," Wesker flatly said. He was clearly concentrating on others matters as he unlocked a heavy metal door. "You are going to sit back and behave. And, yes, before that tongue of yours starts, you could do that at the house; however, unforeseen consequences might arise, and I won't leave you unattended in such an event. Here we are, Claire." They stepped into a computer-lined room with thick, protective glass lining one wall. It gave a perfect view into a white-padded room reserved for specimens under observation.

_Bang_.

Claire's eyes widened and she gasped as something large hurtled into the window. The frame didn't even shudder, but Claire could imagine the force behind the hit.

"What is that?" she demanded. Her fingers itched for a weapon as she retreated several steps. The thing in the other room had once been human—that much was clear. The head pivoted in jerks, and surprisingly green eyes stared out from an otherwise deformed face. It walked heavily slouched on two legs that ended in clawed feet, and the chest was unnaturally large and lined with purple veins beneath sickly skin. Arms too long for its body hung limply but for when it raised them to pound on the glass.

"I ran one more test to see what a high dosage would do on a normal person," Wesker dismissed. He stood back and watched Claire approach the glass. "And his dosage was not even very high. You were very lucky, Claire, to come out differently. Your case is quite the anomaly indeed." He had yet to figure out why her case should be different than this man's, but he was working on it. Claire was now standing less than a foot away from the monster; only the glass separated them, and the beast was curiously still as it observed her.

"It only took a drop to kill Steve," Claire sadly recalled. The creature fixated her. Its eyes were so human and lost looking amidst the sagging, gray flesh that composed its face. Pity emptied from her heart for its fate. "Alexia's virus is as potent as the t-virus then." Wesker was amazed that the creature was not throwing itself at the glass to get at her, and he considered how disappointed he would have been if Claire had morphed similarly.

"Not Alexia's virus," he corrected. "Alexia-Claire virus. I toyed with calling it the Redfield virus, but I wouldn't want your brother to receive undo credit. You have helped with a major, scientific breakthrough." His words made Claire's skin crawl, but she was distracted by a glint of metal. A metal chain hung around the thing's neck, and she realized that it was a dog tag.

"Where did you get him?" she asked with concern as she placed a hand to the glass. The creature pushed its nose against the glass beneath it.

"Hmmm?" Wesker distractedly answered. He could care less about the monster, but Claire's close proximity to it and the sympathy in her voice had been holding his attention. She really did have a gentle touch that complimented that fiery attitude of hers. He smirked. "Nash's men would have been a waste to execute. I decided to put them to more productive uses. It's suiting, don't you think, that he should be a test subject? He left you to the same fate."

"I don't think like you, Wesker." Claire dropped her hand from the glass in revulsion at Wesker's casual disposal of a life and refused to meet his eyes as he motioned her toward the next room. The thing that had once been a man returned to slamming into walls and growling. It made Claire sick to think of what was running through her veins as Wesker began prepping a syringe for himself in a less disturbing room.

"Kill it," she demanded. "Kill that poor thing and put it out of its misery."

"There's no need. It will expire on its own soon enough. The virus is unstable in normal hosts." Claire was sitting in the corner as Wesker rolled up his shirtsleeve. "If anything should happen, there are five syringes of anti-virus in the refrigerator." Claire crossed her arms and coldly turned toward him.

"What makes you think that I won't leave you here to die instead of helping you?" Wesker cruelly smiled at her and readied to inject himself.

"You're locked in, dear heart." Claire's face paled. What if he turned into a monster and tried to kill her? Fantastic. The needle was nearing the inside of Wesker's elbow, and suddenly Claire felt a pang of concern. She had meant what she had said before; even Birkin didn't deserve to mutate like he had. Why would Wesker risk everything to be more powerful? Did he really have nothing else in life? Her eyes softened in that manner that Wesker found so unique to her.

"Wesker, are you sure you want to do this?" she questioned, brow furrowed. He didn't answer as he plunged the virus into his system. Claire watched the syringe empty and return to the table with dread. But Wesker seemed so sure, so invincible that she couldn't believe anything truly terrible would happen. "Now what?" she asked.

"Now we wait." Wesker checked his watch. "One hour and I'll take a blood sample to check the progress." Claire removed his jacket from her body and tossed it onto the table beside her as Wesker paced. The hour passed and nothing had changed, although Wesker was pleased to inform her that his infection was spreading and melding with his already inhuman cells. Claire merely moved to lean against the wall and rest. The floor was cold and uncomfortable, but there was nowhere else to go. Wesker's self-assurance kept her worry down, at least far enough to allow her drooping eyes to close. As she drifted off, she pulled Wesker's jacket around her and noticed that he was watching her with a blank, probing expression. The world faded…

One hour.

Two hours.

Three hours.

Claire's eyes opened and she yawned. Wesker stood facing away from her with his hands on the countertop. Immediately, she sensed that something was wrong. He was leaning heavily. Wesker did not lean heavily, especially with his head drooping. He appeared to be looking at the computer screen, but Claire could hear his ragged breathing. She had never heard him breath before, not like that. She carefully stood and neared him.

"Wesker?" The man glanced over his shoulder. His eyes were burning in a strange, amber shade, but they still held the look of someone in control. "Wesker?" She was getting worried, although she couldn't say for whose sake. She laid a hand on his shoulder and leaned around him to look at his face. Wesker smiled sarcastically.

"What do you think you're doing, Miss Redfield?" He straightened to his full height, but his body swayed, which quickly made his smirk vanish. "There may have been some complications." He went and sat on the table. "As expected."

"What's as expected?"

"I'll be sick for a short while," Wesker stated. "As with the first virus."

"Is it anything serious?" Claire pressed, but Wesker never answered. He slumped and fell from the table to hit the floor with a resounding thump. Claire's heart stopped as she viewed his crumpled, black-clad form. Like in the first lab attack, he seemed so human and vulnerable. Her first instinct was to reach out and roll him over, but she didn't. This was her chance. She could find a way out, she was sure. There was always a way to escape an Umbrella lab, some exit left open for biohazards. She dashed to the door and her fingers tightened over the handle; but they remained fixed there. She stared at them and willed them to push the door open.

_He didn't leave you. _She sighed. _But he had his reasons_. She turned and stared at his still face. His eyes were shut, and his blond hair had come free from its characteristic order. If he had thought that she might choose to help him in a situation like this, then he had anticipated her actions better than she herself could have. Claire crossed the floor and gently rolled him onto his back. It felt wrong for his body to be so limp and weak. His lack of power actually unsettled her, like she was viewing something no person should.

"Wesker…" She wouldn't leave him like this, even if there might be an escape. "Me and my dumb sentiments," she scolded herself, but she gently checked his pulse and laid his jacket over top of him. For all the times that he had saved her life, it was her turn. Claire vowed that Chris would never find out about this. None of Stars could. They wouldn't understand. She wasn't entirely sure that she did either.


	12. Chapter 12: Nightmares

Chapter 26: Nightmares

_The tyrant's claw mercilessly ripped into his chest. Every movement brought pain as he hung suspended in the air. Wesker had never known pain could be so intense. It was so unbearable that he only managed a few moans of anguish before his body was tossed aside. His blood poured out and pooled around the new, glaring cavity in his flesh. The t-virus ravaged his system, sending nauseating chills and stunning pain through ever nerve. He didn't even bother to wonder whether or not Birkin's miracle virus would save him. He only wanted the pain to end. _

_His vision was gone and soon awareness ceased. In the darkness, he was aware that his body had grown cold. His heart had stopped. His body refused to respond. It was maddening to not be in control, but the pain was gone. That was one thing. There was peace. For a moment he even forgot his ambition as his slid into the darkness. The calming tide would pull him under. No! _

_Hands were touching him. There was some movement about his face. This was not supposed to happen. This was the part where he would wake up but no longer be human. He would be better than human…_

Wesker's red eyes opened. His body felt warm. It had been a long time since he had felt warm. He'd forgotten…how could a person forget warmth? He didn't know. Someone was wiping his forehead with a cool, wet wad of paper towels.

"Claire?" Wesker asked, unsure of himself. Sure enough, his vision focused and found Claire kneeling beside him and still wiping his brow. He couldn't believe that she was still here. He had been betting that she'd foolishly try to escape the lab and that he'd need to go hunt her down once the illness had passed. Well, he hadn't counted on getting this sick either.

"105," Claire said. "98 would have been abnormal for you." It was true; his temperature had started at 70, but had been steadily hiking. "Are you feeling okay?" She was surprised that Wesker merely let his head rest on the floor and breathed deeply. It was like waking up from his death all over again. That was not something he had hoped to relive. "Here." Claire bundled his jacket into a ball and placed it under his head like a pillow. Wesker managed to pull off his usually malicious smile. Even in pain and distortion, he could make her feel ridiculed. "Should I give you one of the shots?"

"No," Wesker ordered. Damn. He still pulled off commanding too. "Let the virus run its course."

"Suit yourself," Claire disapproved. "If you start acting strange though, I'm not going to listen. I don't need you to grow a tentacle either." She could see Wesker's eyes defocusing and drifting closed again. He had woken up twice already, but he apparently didn't remember that. Each time, he said her name like he was surprised she was beside him. She didn't know what to do now that he was unconscious again. When her mother was alive and Claire was sick, she'd sit on the edge of Claire's bed and hold her hand until she fell asleep. Wesker might not have been worried about his condition—he really wasn't, because he had the utmost confidence that he could beat a virus if he could beat death—but Claire gently took his hand and ran her fingers over the knuckles. It brought her more comfort than him.

"_Albert, I don't think this is a wise decision, but it is your decision," the older gentleman cautioned. He stood with his graying hair, short beard, and oblong glasses beside the table at the front of the large classroom. Wesker stood near the door. They were alone, as often happened after class._

"_Umbrella has made me a good offer," Wesker answered. "It's a research position in a prominent company, and the work is…unique. Isn't that what you always wanted for me?" Wesker couldn't keep a slight sneer out of his voice for the other man's concerns._

"_Albert, I've treated you as my own son since your parents were murdered. You know that I want the best for you, but this company is not the place I envisioned. These corporations…you haven't seen it, but the power plays and ambitions…" He sadly viewed the steel in Wesker's eyes. He was no stranger to Wesker's calculating ways, but he always turned a blind eye. "Perhaps you are suited for it, but I had hoped that you might turn your talent toward helping people rather than making weapons."_

"_The latter has better opportunities."_

"_Yes, but that depends on what you're after, my boy." They stood in silence, and Wesker knew that the man's heart was breaking. "Albert, I am sorry that we never caught that man." Wesker was surprised that he had brought that up._

"_They were killed years ago, Dr. Matthews. It has no importance to this decision, and I would not say that the man was never found." The Matthew's head shot upward. He remembered the night that he had found Wesker cleaning blood from his hands in the bathroom. He had seemed unnaturally pleased with himself. _

"_You don't mean?" _

"_What does it matter? To solve problems, you have to take matters into your own hands. No one watches your back except yourself. I happen to know what I'm getting myself involved in." Dr. Matthews looked even more depressed, if possible. _

"_You won't be the same," he warned. "There is more at stake here than a few dollars and a bit of influence." Wesker smirked._

"_You're right. There is more on the table than that." The older man dropped his head. Wesker did not want to hurt him like this, but there was no avoiding it. _

"_If you make this decision…don't come back, Albert. Don't come back if you choose this path." Wesker appeared stunned for a brief span. Those words were a harsh stab in the chest. Matthews couldn't mean it, but his eyes were resolute. There would be no home for Wesker to return to. Wesker looked at the floor._

"_I do not wish to part on these terms," he allowed. _

"_It is your choice." _

"_Then I've made it," Wesker said, softly. "You have only ever been kind to me, doctor. Thank you for everything." They had been together for a long time, since he had been ten. "I regret that we will not be seeing each other again then. Goodbye." He walked away and never looked back, but Wesker did feel that something had been taken from him. Even his adoptive father couldn't be counted on, and Wesker the man had to admit that it stung, badly. He left that university and severed all ties, but the professor stared sadly after him. There was no keeping Albert from his goals, and that crushed him. He had changed so much over the years…_

"_You'll come to realize what you've lost too late, Albert," he said in final parting. Albert Wesker kept walking._

Wesker's eyes opened. He was still in the lab. Claire had fallen asleep leaning against the other table, but her hand was firmly holding his. Wesker went to withdraw his fingers, but Claire's eyelids fluttered opened. She had only been dozing.

"Claire," he greeted, sounding more together than he had for twelve hours. She scooted over to him and felt his forehead.

"Your temperature is down," she sighed in relief. "Back to corpse cold almost." Wesker was too tired to retort properly. Claire held a cup of water up. "Thirsty?" Wesker found it ironic that she should be taking care of him, her hostage and the superhuman, but his throat was dry. It had been a long time since he had a dry throat. He went to grasp the cup, but he nearly dropped it with his numb fingers. Claire smiled but tried to hide it behind her hand as she remained holding the cup and raised it to his lips.

"It's not funny," Wesker drawled.

"Of course not, mighty Wesker." He wanted to hit her, but his limbs were too weak. "Let's see if we can get you on the table." She wrapped his arm around her shoulders and placed the other one on his waist. Between the two of them, he was soon lying on the table. Claire retrieved his jacket pillow and set it under his head. "Thank goodness," she sighed with a suddenly weary expression. "I thought you might die." Many other people would have been happy if he had. Wesker lifted a hand and placed it against her cheek. Claire let him hold it like that and rub his thumb across her skin while he stared at her.

"Anyone else would have let me die," he noted. Claire smiled sadly.

"I'm not everyone else, and I have my reasons. They're just more sentimental than yours." Wesker barely smiled as he laid his arm down and closed his eyes. "Who's Dr. Matthews?" His eyes flew open.

"A man from a long time ago," he quietly responded. He had cared about that man as if Matthews had really been his father, but that had faded as he progressed through college. Wesker hadn't cared about anyone in a long time. Claire refilled his cup with water and returned to give him another sip. For a second, he let himself forget everything and just felt her wiping the water from his chin. No, he had not cared about anyone in a long time. "He took me in after my parents were murdered." Claire froze. "A man broke into our house and tried to rob us. When my dad tried to stop him, he was stabbed to death. My mother was made to last." His voice was so steady and indifferent.

"My parents were shot in a spree killing," Claire commented. "Chris and I hid and saw the entire thing." She squeezed Wesker's hand.

"Claire, we are not kindred spirits because of random acts of violence. Are you trying to comfort me?" he mocked harshly.

"No," Claire sharply retorted. "I thought it was a kind gesture, in case you've forgotten what that is." She released his hand but kept standing over him, as if he'd die the moment she turned away. "Are you going to recover?"

"Yes."

"You scared the hell out of me with your sleep talk and jerking."

"Did I? My apologies, dear heart."

"Were you having nightmares?" Wesker's red eyes lazily drifted over her, but he did not answer. He was feeling weak again. His fists clenched. God, how he hated weakness, and right here in front of his enemy. But it was a different kind of enemy—the kind that didn't hate him and brought him hot cocoa. "Let me rest, Claire." She nodded gently, and thought of leaving again, but she was still not convinced that Wesker would get better. She sat in the corner and took a nap. Perhaps there was another reason for not leaving, but Claire wouldn't allow herself to think about it.

On the countertop, in the briefcase, Wesker's phone was vibrating, but no one heard it. He had locked it away so that Claire could not take advantage of it. That was unfortunate for him. Ada was all too willing to not report her findings on anti-Umbrella if he was busy.

*************

"I've got the data!" Rebecca happily announced. She had been hacking Umbrella files for days, and now she had a list of resort locations. The list printed and was slapped into the middle of a table. The team gathered around to examine the findings.

"What kind of place would he take Claire?" Chris asked himself. "It could be any of these. We don't have enough time to check all of them." His nerves tightened in frustration, and he began discussing the possibilities with Leon. Jill, on the other hand, was thinking more seasonally.

"This one," she said and pointed to a location.

"Why?" Chris asked.

"He would keep her isolated—that's what I think. And he always liked his privacy. Right now this valley should be knee deep in snow."

"Inaccessible, remote, sounds like a likely spot," Leon agreed. "How long will it take to get there, Becky?" Her fingers were already flying over the keyboard. They were currently in Spain.

"Not long. Flying will take a day, then we can go by car, but, if the roads aren't cleared, it could be a hard trek. Several days." Chris groaned but accepted the information.

"Maybe a chopper can drop us in," he suggested. "We'll worry about it when we get to that point. Load up, team!" _I'm coming for you, Wesker. You'll never touch my sister again. _He couldn't imagine how poor Claire was surviving. He swore that he'd never let her leave the house again.


	13. Chapter 13: Power

Hello All! Here's treat for reviewing. j/k. Love to you all.

______________

Chapter 27: Power

The noise had started two hours ago. It was a horrendously loud moaning with the occasional high-pitched yelp, and it was driving Claire insane. Like listening to a wounded animal in the throws of death, it was grating and sorrowful at the same time. She knew what it was: that thing in the other room. The virus was gradually devouring it, and there was nothing to do about it. She wanted to take a look, but she figured that it would only cause her more bewilderment. Wesker might have or might not have heard it. It was hard to tell, because he was lying still with his eyes closed.

Claire found that she adored that image of him peacefully sleeping. When he rested, she would simply sit and watch his chest rise and fall. She wondered if anyone else would see the fleeting marvel in it, but she didn't care either way. No one else was here—no one, not Chris or Jill or Leon or Rebecca. Claire stood over Wesker and gently, sadly smiled. What would happen when she was reunited with ex-Stars? She would carry the burden of this event alone, but it would never be the burden that they suspected. Her hand lifted and suspended in indecision before she ran her fingers through Wesker's smooth, blond hair. His eyes drifted open. Sleepiness clung about their edges as Claire quickly withdrew her hand, embarrassed to be caught in the act.

"What are you going to tell your brother when the time comes, dear heart?" Wesker questioned. Claire's face contorted in uncertainty and discomfort.

"About what?"

"About our attachment complications," Wesker smugly reminded.

"I don't know," Claire sighed. "You say that nothing will really change. Well, maybe you're right. I don't see how they could. Maybe Chris will never need to know." Wesker did not believe that any more than she did. There would be a day when they met again, and Claire would not attack Wesker with the tenacity that Chris would expect. They would catch a glimpse of what had passed between the two, if nothing else.

"You could deny it," Wesker pointed out.

"I…" Claire shook her head. Wesker observed her conflict with understanding. He had known since they had grown more comfortable that Claire would have a much more difficult time coping than him, because lying did not come naturally to her and she lacked the ability to bury her emotions. The screaming continued from the other room. "I wish that thing would die already," she huffed, switching topics.

"Death will run its course. Have some patience, dear heart."

"That isn't driving you nuts?" No, it wasn't, although it was slightly annoying. "I'll be back," Claire announced.

"Where are you going?" Wesker demanded. This role reversal bothered him far more than painful screams. He should not need to ask where she was going when it had always been the other way around.

"I'm going to take care of the problem."

"Claire, don't be foolish," Wesker flatly admonished. "You will put yourself in needless danger, and I am not going to be able to save you this time." Claire glared at him.

"Albert Wesker, I have fought and killed as many different monsters as you; I have been living with a tyrant for weeks and weeks; and I am infected with a deadly virus. I do not need your saving this time." The determination in her eyes drew appreciation from Wesker and reminded him of her potential. It had been a long time since she'd had a proper fight, and that creature was probably going to suffer the wrath of a restricted and defiant Redfield. He could see that she needed this, as idiotic as it was, and he could do nothing to stop her anyway. He was only at the stage where he could sit up. "I'll be back."

"There are guns in a cabinet down the hall," Wesker offered. "Room B-5." If she was going to do this, he might as well ensure that she did the job properly. Claire left him lying there and retrieved an assault rifle similar to her SG 550. It was loaded and ready to kill.

She stopped in the observation room first and her breathing hitched. The monster was slouched in a corner, head shaking side-to-side and blood trickling down over its body from several opened wounds about its chest and face. Claire looked more closely. Not, wounds, she realized, but places where the skin had completely decayed to reveal the more tender muscles underneath. Again, she pitied this man. The way he retained an aura of humanity with his pleading and pain-filled eyes reminded her of Steve's transformation. She could have ended up just like him, but she hadn't. She had survived, and that left her the responsibility of cleaning up the mess of the less fortunate.

She took a narrow side passage to the room's entrance. The door was electronic, but not access code locked. She followed the screens leads and heard the door click. The handle was incredibly heavy and difficult to pull open, but she managed to do it. With one last determined inhalation, she stepped into the white room.

The creature seemed unaware of her presence at first, and Claire raised her gun. The sight was fixed on the creature's head, and, as she readied to pull the trigger, the head turned. She hesitated. The green eyes found hers and she thought the creature looked like it had been crying. _My god_, Claire thought. _How could anyone do this to another person? _The creature charged and Claire rapidly let loose with several shots that slammed into its chest area. Dark blood oozed from the wounds and the monster shrieked, but it did not stop. It was blinded in rage from its pain. It wanted to rend and kill anything that it could.

Claire was unprepared for the ferocity. None of Umbrella's creatures attacked with such hate and passion, and before she could fire again, the creature had swiped its heavy hand at her. The blow literally lifted Claire from the ground and sent her hurtling into the wall. She grunted in pain as her back hit, and her gun was sent clattering to the ground beside her. She picked herself up and regained her bearings in a crouch. It was barely enough time to twist to the side as the monster's claws came down.

She ran for the gun, but the monster cornered her. She kept her back to the wall as they rotated in circles around each other. She felt desperation seeping through her every pore. She had to kill this thing; she had to. Her body tensed in readiness as the monster lunged at her. Her panic meter peaked as she saw the claw coming directly for her face. Then something happened that Claire couldn't explain. All she was conscious of was the will to live, to survive.

Something powerful coiled in her system. She literally felt something inside of her spreading and lightening her limbs. It was the strangest sensation she could ever remember experiencing. She ducked under the claws and closed her hands into fists. One blow landed in the creature's abdomen, and Claire could hear the crunch of bones. She grabbed the monster's throat and flung it away with such force that it skidded and collided with the open door. It spun and snarled viciously as its legs sprang forward.

Claire raised the gun and held the trigger flat until there were no bullets left. Even then, her finger kept the trigger down. The monster lay at her feet, a bloody heap of expired, viral flesh. The gun fell from her grip and she stumbled backwards into the wall and slid down its surface. Her eyes were wide and her mind shaken from the experience. How had she done that? And the thing's green eyes haunted her. She felt normal. She hadn't died, yet something inside of her had reacted to her panic. Whatever it was, she could feel it receding as she willed it to vanish.

She sat like that for several minutes before picking her feet up and walking to the corpse. She rolled the thing over and ripped off the dog tag. She would give an answer to some family, somewhere. She knew closure was a damned difficult thing to lack, and so the dog tag slipped into her pocket.

She exited and walked to the observation room in numb silence. When she stepped inside, movement caught her eye and she became acutely aware that she was not alone. Wesker stood leaning against the glass windows, staring at the monster's corpse. He swayed unsteadily on his feet as he turned to meet her eyes. Claire wrapped her arms around herself in consternation.

"That was quite the performance," he praised.

"Don't give me that expectant look," Claire bitterly spat. "I don't know what happened and whatever it was is gone now."

"Are you so sure, dear heart? Or eager to be rid of it for that matter?" Claire did not want to think about that. There had been this rush of power. She had felt invincible, and there had been this thrill of control when she knew that the monster was no match for her. Now she felt only horror. Wesker smugly smiled and straightened as much as he could. "It's perfectly fine to admit it, Claire. It is an intoxicating experience."

Claire saw his footing falter and was at his side in an instant. She wrapped her arms around his unsteady frame and found her face against his neck. She breathed his scent. Closeness always made her recall how it had felt for him to remove her towel and embrace her shaking form. Now Wesker leaned heavily upon her and was forced to rest his head against hers. "It is not so bad, dear heart," he soothed.

"What happened?" Claire demanded.

"I don't know. Perhaps your system is behaving differently with the virus and you won't need to die before it starts having an effect. This could be stage one or just a fluke; however the true potential of the infected has never manifested itself before death in any test subjects with any virus." Claire shuddered and helped Wesker back to the table. He sat down and Claire tried to back away, but Wesker stopped her. His hands wrapped around her wrists and pulled her against him. She could have pulled away if she had wanted, but she didn't.

"Dear heart, you won't change for the worse," he assured. "You should be quite the impressive figure by the time this is through." It was meant to comfort her, but it did not. Wesker's eyes were dancing with anticipation again, but he quickly masked it as he realized that Claire was softly crying. Her hands tightened around his waist and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Are my eyes still blue?" she needed to know. Wesker lifted her chin and smiled with a rare softness.

"They're still blue." Claire nodded and sat on the table beside him. He held her crying form and wiped her tears away. Already he could feel his strength returning. Soon he'd be back to his old abilities, but with a few extra perks—the perks that Claire so hastily discarded as unwanted.

"Will you kill me to see what's going to happen?" Claire demanded.

"No, dear heart," Wesker promised. "With the path you have chosen, it will happen sooner rather than later on its own. There is no need for me to speed the process up, and I don't particularly want your hate." Claire's arms tightened around him. Any comfort was good comfort, and Wesker was using his more gentle side. He meant what he said this time. If there was any hope for gaining Claire's complete trust, he could not kill her. Let her come to him when the time was right. _And_, his mind reminded, _you really don't want to kill her, even if she is a Redfield_. It finally, fully clicked in his mind that she had chosen to stay and watch over him rather than abandon him in his weakness. Such a rarity, like her, like everything about her.


	14. Chapter 14: Farewells

Chapter 28: Farewells

Claire woke up and found Wesker pacing with his hands behind his back. He did not appear weak in the slightest, but his face was stamped with fatigue. She said nothing as she watched him working his lithe muscles and thinking.

"You're getting better," she commented at last. "I guess I have to start watching my smartass comments again." Wesker stopped and leaned against the wall.

"Indeed," he agreed.

"Does that mean we can go back to the house? These empty facilities are creepy and uncomfortable." Wesker turned his neck to work the kinks out of it. He could feel his body strengthening as they spoke.

"We'll depart this evening or tomorrow." Claire was glad to hear it, but that didn't help with the largest question on her mind.

"Wesker, what's going to happen now? You got your virus, but you said that you wouldn't kill me, and I'm sure we're not going to hang out here in the woods forever." Wesker was silent and blank—a sure sign that he was concentrating. He considered his end goals, which included seeing Claire join him and Chris dead, but Claire was not willing to agree to that yet. His plans were set, and time was his ally. Maybe he would just let Claire go to run her course until she died or until they met again, which was inevitable in this conflict.

"Warning: Intruder alert in garage 4," an announcement blared over the speakers. Wesker hurriedly typed commands into the nearby computer and accessed the security cameras. He couldn't believe it. Chris, Jill, Leon, and Rebecca were standing in one of the empty garages and arming their weapons. Such a damn nuisance, but maybe this would play into his hands nicely.

"I shall return momentarily, dear heart," Wesker stated and hurried from the room. Claire curiously approached the computer screen and received a shock to the system. _Chris. Oh my god, Chris_. An excitement and warmth radiated throughout her body. It had been so long since she had seen him, but she had thought of him often. He had come for her, like he had promised he always would. The others were with him too. Claire happily watched them move off the screen. They would be reunited in minutes.

_What about Wesker?_ She paused, and the happiness dampened. They would try to kill him. What if he wasn't strong enough to survive in his current state? Claire's good spirits disappeared in a flurry of questions and uncertainties. Conflicting emotions assailed her mind. What if Wesker killed Chris? Could both of them leave this place alive? She hoped so. Her heart yearned for it like she yearned to return to freedom, but she was disturbed to find that freedom was no longer a strict desire either. Part of her defied leaving and asked her what she really wanted. She realized that she couldn't answer that, especially once Wesker returned to the room. She hated how complicated her life had become. This man before her had once only been a monster.

"Chris is here," she numbly commented. Wesker had two handguns strapped to his waist, and his black overcoat hung about his tall frame. His red eyes were searching her face for something, for he could no doubt see that she was not entirely enthused about the appearance of Stars.

"Yes, your dear brother has arrived." Claire watched Wesker and knew that she didn't want this man to die. She didn't want any of them to die.

"Are you still vulnerable?" she carefully asked. Wesker removed a knife from his belt and cut a thin slice in his hand. The blood flow quickly stopped, but the wound was not healing nearly as fast as it normally would. He replaced the knife and approached so that he and Claire were extremely close—no more than several inches apart.

"How unfortunate," Wesker scoffed.

"I'm going with them," Claire stated now that she knew he was in no position to force her to do otherwise. It was what part of her wanted to say and what the rest felt obligated to.

"No doubt, dear heart. I take my exit alone this time. Chris will live to fight another day, but he is merely lucky that I am unwell. Redfield luck."

"Wesker…" Claire began. What could she say after having been with him so long? Nothing seemed appropriate. Nothing seemed capable of expressing what she wanted to. "I…thank you…I…you'll get away okay then?" Wesker saved her the hassle of further verbal fumbling by drawing her closer by the waist and kissing her. Claire leaned into his touch and tried to memorize every detail of the sensation. This kiss was different, for it lacked the cool methodology of before. He pressed close to her and sunk his lips deeply into hers; that's when Claire knew that she was kissing a man and not a tyrant.

"If there were no Chris or Stars, what decision would you make?" Wesker asked her. Claire sensed dangerous intent behind those words, and she smiled distantly.

"You're trying to make me doubt myself."

"It's working, dear heart, but it is hardly my doing. Two months ago, you would have leapt into Chris's arms, but you've fallen prey to your own sentimental nature. I never forced you to feel anything. Of that, I am innocent, and you still haven't answered my question," he pressed. This was something he wanted to know, or at least see her reaction to for future reference.

"I don't know. And don't deny that your manipulation isn't partly to blame for this. Your damn good at it, you bastard." Wesker gave her his smuggest look to date. "Are you saying that you'd like me to go with you?" Wesker loosened his arms from around her waist and exhaled.

"Read into it what you want, Claire." Red and blue eyes met and held each other. Both were looking for something, but neither one of them voiced their separate searches. "I will miss your presence, dear heart." Claire felt several tears slipping down her cheeks. Wesker wiped them away. "Those tears are foolish. I'm still a conniving bastard, as you once so eloquently put it. Don't trust me, Claire." He paused and sternly turned for the door. "And I promise that we shall see each other again."

"In that case, make sure that you go to the cabin and get my Shakespeare book," Claire said. "So that I have it for the next time we do this." She gave a short laugh and tossed her tears away. "I guess there's no way we won't see each other again. I don't know how I feel about that anymore—about anything right now."

"Security breach in level 3," the intercom alerted. Wesker stepped away from Claire and removed a gun from his belt.

"You're coming with me until my getaway is ensured." She scowled. "For appearance's sake, you might find it beneficial to comply." True, Chris would have questions if Wesker left her behind without a fight. She hurried after the former captain.

"I'll kick your ass if you try any last minute tricks," she declared. And she would. She would fight for her freedom now that it was drawing nearer. Whatever she felt for Wesker could not change reality, and she knew it, as much as she regretted it. They took an elevator and entered a large room—probably another empty garage, or so it looked.

"Our ways part here, dear heart," Wesker announced as he neared a door to the outside world. Claire felt incredibly unsure about him walking away to disappear from her life. He had been her only constant in a long captivity.

"Wesker, wait!" Claire called. She approached him but not too closely lest he attempt to grab her. "What if something happens to me? How do I find you if I need help with…the virus?" She was uncomfortable even saying the word now that Stars was closing in. What if someone overheard her comments?

"Don't worry. I'll find you," he mockingly promised as he whipped a pair of sunglasses from his shirt pocket and slipped them over his eyes.

"WESKER!" Chris's deep voice shouted. Wesker dodged an incoming bullet and smirked at Chris, who stood, gun raised, on the other side of the room. The others were backing him up with their own weapons ready. "Let her go!"

"Chris, you have a bad habit of rudely interrupting," Wesker sarcastically admonished. He had fully returned to his element and was enjoying every second of angering his enemies. "Your sister has made the most enjoyable company for the last three months." Claire's face paled. He wouldn't say anything about…would he? That conscienceless freak! "I think she's grown quite fond of me." Wesker dodged another bullet.

"Chris, chill!" Jill warned.

"I would like to keep her a while longer. She is, after all, a wonderful…" Wesker's eyes found Claire's, and her round, blue orbs were watery and pleading. _Wesker, please don't turn me into a mockery. _She could not see behind the shades, but Wesker smirked cruelly. "Regardless, Chris, you may have her back. Keep her for as long as you are able." With that mysterious warning, Wesker raised his gun and fired several shots to send Stars scurrying for cover. Only Claire remained standing in the open.

"Goodbye, Claire," Wesker said with a respectful nod of his head. He left the building and disappeared. The cold air rushing into the building played with Claire's hair as she stood and watched the door shut. He was gone. Wesker was really gone.

"Claire?" Chris asked. Her insulated musings popped.

"Chris!" Claire ran into his arms and hugged him tightly. Relief flooded her system, even as her mind thought of Wesker. Those thoughts were quickly fading as everyone encircled her and happily celebrated her return.

"Should we pursue him?" Rebecca asked.

"He's long gone," Leon answered. "Claire, it's good to have you back."

"Yeah, you survived again," Jill commented.

"Of course. She's a Redfield," Chris laughed and hugged Claire even tighter. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Yes. Don't suffocate me," Claire laughed. All this joy and warmth—she had missed it terribly. Her friends were back, and she was really free. She couldn't help but focus on that and let Wesker's haunting image fall to the wayside. He would be there tonight, when she lay alone in her bed. _For now_, she decided, _some peace_.

"Why did Wesker just let you go?" Jill questioned.

"He was weakened by a new viral strain," Claire answered.

"A new one?" Rebecca gasped. "Is he stronger than before?" Claire shrugged, and Jill watched her closely.

"So why did he take you?" Chris demanded no one in particular.

"How about we save the questions for later?" Claire suggested. "Let's get the hell out of this place! I am so ready for good company and food." Laughter rippled around her. It was amazing how quickly her good spirits were returning, but that was the spunk in her. Chris wrapped a loving arm around her shoulders as they stepped into the wintery world outside the lab. They jested and smiled and Claire easily slid back into the group; although, it was a bit overwhelming after such isolation. A large, off-road vehicle awaited them, and it rumbled across the landscape.

As it turned a corner, Claire recognized the road leading to Wesker's house. She risked peering out of the window and up its path. A black figure stood in the window, but she blinked and it was gone. Maybe she had imagined it as she listened to the background chatter. Already the team was planning a mini party and what to do next. They still had a list of Umbrella labs.

"Hey there, stupid," Chris joked as Claire turned back from the window. "Don't zone out on me." Claire smiled. "We'll get him one day, sis. He won't always win, and he's not taking you again. Nope. Over my dead body."

"That's not funny," Claire said with a smile, but there was a lingering sadness to her eyes that Chris missed. Things had changed, but then again, they really hadn't. _Goodbye, Wesker_.


	15. Chapter 15: Epilogue

Epilogue

They were having a party for Claire. Pizza boxes opened, chip bags ripped, and sodas and beers snapped. Jill and Rebecca even presented their very own homemade, chocolate cake. It looked like a two-year old had iced it, but it tasted marvelous. Yes, they were having a party for Claire, but Claire was standing at the edge of it, watching the chaos in the kitchen. Chris stole pizza from Jill's plate and got playfully slapped, and Rebecca was trying to explain to Leon why there were chips of eggshell in the cake.

"Claire, what's wrong?" Chris asked when he noticed her standing in the doorway but not eating. He was moving into protective-brother mode.

"Nothing," Claire assured. Her face split into a peaceful smile. "It's perfect." She was busy taking the entire scene in and digesting it, basking in the security surrounding her. The team seemed to understand and did not question her further. No doubt she had her issues to work through after such a long captivity. "Don't eat all of!" Claire protested as Leon went for the new box of pizza. She rushed forward and laughingly grabbed a slice. Pepperonis—they had never tasted so good.

"So how did you guys find me?" Claire asked. Between the four teammates, the story tumbled out about Mexico, Nash, and Ada. Leon was rather reserved throughout, but it was only one more small indicator to Claire that there was more to him and Ada than met the eye.

"What was happening with you the entire time?" Chris asked. Claire froze in uncertainty. She didn't want to tell them that she was infected, and the rest of the story was hardly appropriate. Claire herself was already questioning whether or not what had happened between her and Wesker would fade, even whether or not it had meant anything to him and what it should mean to her. She might be a discarded interest by now, but her intuition said no. His parting words about finding her—she recalled them clearly, as well as his subtle hints that there was more to his plans involving her. Again, the virus in her system made her feel sick.

"Some of the things I'm not ready to talk about," Claire answered. These were friends who had risked their lives and valuable time to find her, and she couldn't outright lie to them; she wouldn't, but she couldn't bare her heart right now. If whatever Wesker and her had shared for that brief time turned out to have only been a lapse in her judgment, then there was no reason to ever reveal her full story. "Maybe I'll be able to talk about them later, when I've thought about it, but not now…I'm grateful for everything you've done," she thanked them. "You can't imagine how confusing and frustrating it was at times. You guys are amazing friends, and I'm very lucky."

"Ah, come on Claire," Rebecca smiled. "That's what friends do. We're all Umbrella survivors."

"That's right," Jill agreed. "In a world like this, we've got to watch out for each other, and it's okay to keep it to yourself, Claire. It's sensitive, I know."

"What I don't understand is why he took you," Chris complained. "He didn't contact us once—not once."

"Even Ada didn't know why he kept you," Leon continued. Claire's hands clenched on her lap. This is what she had been dreading the most.

"In the lab," Claire began. "I broke his virus samples, and I got a small infection." Her voice broke off and she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Chris." She felt like crying, but she remained blank faced and still. Chris rose from his seat and walked around the table to wrap a supportive arm around her. Claire remained stiffly upright.

"Hey, hey," Chris soothed. "It's okay, sis. Don't worry about it. We'll talk some other time, okay?" Claire's determination flared to life.

"No," she affirmed. "You deserve to know why you had to chase me across countries. He wanted to study me to see if the infection would take over my system." Everyone stared at her like she had grown a third eye. "But it didn't. When you came for me, he had no reasons left to keep me. That's why he hardly put up a fight." Chris's grip tightened around her protectively.

"So…are you okay now?" Chris ventured. "I, mean, what do you mean, infection?" Claire smiled bitterly.

"I'm okay. The infection didn't win out over my body. I'm still Claire." A collective sigh seemed to be released in the room. "But I was very lucky." What she said was true, and she decided to let details slide. They only needed to know that she was okay for now, not that she would likely come back to life like Wesker had once she died. She wasn't ready to reveal that, but still… "He warned that I might be affected by the virus one day," Claire cautioned. "I'll understand if you don't want me around because…you know…because of the virus thing."

"Claire, you look fine to me," Chris sternly assured. "And we can get some antivirus for you at the next lab, just to be safe. As long as the infection lost, how could you think that? And," he quickly added, "even if you are still infected, you're my sister."

"If you were going to mutate, we'd see it already," Leon agreed. "You can't possibly be infected or dangerous." General agreement spread throughout the group.

"Damn," Jill softly laughed, trying to release tension. "Redfield luck saves the day again. You two are something else." Smiles went around, and Claire relaxed into her brother's hold.

"I'm tired," Claire stated. "I think I'll hit the bed. Thanks for the party."

"You can't leave without tasting out cake!" Rebecca protested. And so they ate cake and joked about Claire trying to eat them or about old memories at Stars. Around midnight, the group dispersed for a well-deserved rest. Chris and Jill were heading toward their room when Chris noticed Claire standing outside on the front steps and staring into space. He went to retrieve her, but Jill laid a hand on his shoulder.

"She'll be fine," Jill promised.

"She always is in the end, isn't she?" Chris sighed. "I wish she would tell me what happened. She used to tell me everything."

"Chris, some memories are too private, and the violent trauma you are looking for might not be there. I don't think Wesker was brutal to her." Chris looked at her questioningly. "There are no marks of physical abuse on her, and I know because I walked in on her bath to give her spare clothing. She also mentioned that Wesker was very civil when he had her the first time. Chris, your sister is contemplative and insightful by nature," she continued. "That's why I say that there may be private and troubling memories she has to deal with on her own."

"I don't know how Wesker could be civil to my sister, of all people," Chris said. He didn't believe it for one moment. "But maybe you're right. Maybe the scars are mental more than physical."

"You know how manipulative Wesker is." Chris nodded. "Let's go to bed. Tomorrow Claire may be back to her old self." They shut their door behind them and Claire remained outside. Later, Jill would comfort her and Claire would admit that she and Wesker had spent too much time together to be healthy for her mind, but for now, Claire was alone with her thoughts. She couldn't help but wonder what Wesker was doing now that she was gone—probably sitting in a dark office and typing away.

Had it been a dream? Her life seemed incredibly unreal to her when she thought of making Wesker hot chocolate. She smiled upward at the sky. What had happened meant something to her, and she hoped that it had meant something to Wesker. Today he was back to being the evil nemesis, but for a few weeks he had been something else. It was her personal secret, and she decided to carry it instead of denying what had happened or what she had felt. In fact, it no longer seemed a burden. Even if it meant nothing, the memories were hers to keep, and she planned to keep them.

Wesker had used, mocked, and manipulated her. He had also shown genuineness, fondness, and an otherwise humane side that Chris claimed never existed. Claire went inside and slipped into her bed. Wesker hadn't changed, but he had let her see something that was usually stowed away. Claire could live with that. She needed to since she knew that Wesker would be present in her thoughts until they met again. The next day, when a package arrived with her pink jacket, she knew that she would be on someone else's mind too.


	16. End Note

End Note:

Thank you to all the readers, reviewers, fans, etc. I know I didn't reply to individual reviews, but it's not because I am neglectful. I simply don't have a lot of spare time, and I figured that you'd want me to spend that time writing more chapters! XD

Anyway, I really want to write a sequel to this to finish up the story of Claire's infection and the relationship between her and Wesker, but it will be a while before that gets posted due to college papers.

Until next time…


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